STRAIGHT  GOODS 
IN  PHILOSOPHY 

By 

PAULKARISHKA 


i.        i    Pa  I  <K  '      ■ 

STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN 
PHILOSOPHY 


BY 

PAUL   KARISHKA 

AUTHOE  OF 

"SOME   PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE   HERMETICS," 

'SOME  MORE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  HERMETICS,"    "  EL  RESHID,' 

"THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY  CHRIST,"   ETC. 


•* 


NEW  YORK 

ROGER  BROTHERS,  Publishers 

1910 


LONDON:    L.    N.    FOWLER  &   CO 


81 

H5 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
DAVID    P.    HATCH 

LOS  ANGELES,   CAL. 

All  Rights  Reserved 


THE  TROW  PRESS,  NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Concerning  Societies   3 

Three  Sources  of  Happiness 9 

Loving  Everybody  11 

A  Psychic  Truth 13 

The  Professional  Philosopher 15 

Excuses  17 

Healing  of  the  Body  by  Mind 20 

The  Unit  of  Force  and  the  Individual 32 

Our  Right  and  Title  in  Happiness 37 

What  and  Who  is  a  Master? 41 

Posing   43 

The  Things  We  Hate 45 

Sympathy   49 

The  Funeral  of  a  Living  Corpse 55 

Something  About  Chaos  61 

The  Will  and  Rhythm 65 

Like  the  Shield  of  Achilles 69 

Weeds    77 

Waste   Places    81 

The  Wild  Beast 84 

Man  and  Woman,  or  Woman  and  Man, — Which?.  92 

Cheap  Verbiage    101 

The  Thoughts  that  Kill 104 

Food    HI 


CONTENTS 

The  Value  of  the  Imagination  in  Life 119 

Essentials  of  a  Philosophic  Life 126 

Constellations    135 

Why  Women  Are  Sly  142 

Privileged  People  151 

Problems 158 

Fear  and  Worry 163 

The  Jewel  in  the  Toad's  Head  171 

The  Law  of  Opposites 177 

The  Absolute  182 

Old  Age    188 

Our  Blessings    197 

The  Past 203 

What's  the  Use? 208 


INTRODUCTION. 

STRAIGHT  GOODS  AND  "THE  PLAIN  MAN." 

Doctors  of  Philosophy  and  collegiate  authori- 
ties on  Psychology  frequently  refer  to  the  "plain 
man"  as  distinguished  from  an  individual  of 
1 '  trained  mind. ' '  By  the  ' '  plain  man ' '  they  mean 
the  common  sense  person,  who  relies  on  his  every- 
day experiences  for  his  criterion,  irrespective  of 
deep  and  subtle  analysis.  The  plain  man  has  a 
kind  of  "horse  intuition,"  using  his  senses  for 
what  they  are  worth,  bringing  memory  to  the 
fore  as  a  help  in  his  final  decisions.  He  has  no 
interest  in  the  relationship  of  brain  and  body  from 
a  scientific  standpoint,  nor  does  he  care  a  farth- 
ing whether  Interactionism,  Automatism  or  Paral- 
lelism clinches  and  settles  the  whole  question  or 
not.  Whether  mind  and  matter  are  equal  and 
interdealing,  as  the  Reactionist  asserts,— implying 
causal  relations,  sequence,  sensational  brain  event 
and  volitional  brain  event  coming  one  after  the 
other,  either  way  necessitating  time,  priority,  etc., 
is  not  of  the  slightest  importance  to  him.  Nor 
does  Automatism  stir  up  in  his  being  any  deep- 
seated  interest.  It  is  all  the  same  as  far  as  he  is 
concerned,  if  the  Automatist  succeeds  in  proving 


ii  INTRODUCTION 

that  mind  depends  on  body,  hanging  to  the  breast 
of  it  like  an  infant  to  its  mother,  having  its  "ups 
and  downs,"  its  glooms  and  pleasures  by  permis- 
sion of  this  autocratic  flesh,  which  dominates  it 
like  a  tyrant.  If  his  physical  brain  takes  a  notion 
to  fall  into  a  stupor  he  does  not  care  if  his  mind 
is  literally  nowhere,  consciousness  being  but  a 
secretion,  so  to  speak,  of  brain  itself. 

No,  the  plain  man  is  quite  indifferent  to  the 
subtleties  of  brain  storms  from  the  automatist's 
point  of  view.  Nor  does  he  lose  sleep  at  night 
in  cogitating  the  great  doctrine  of  Parallelism. 
What  business  is  it  of  his,  if  our  bodily  life  is 
"a  closed  circle  in  which  nervous  processes  run 
their  course  between  sense  organs  and  muscles 
without  consciousness,  from  beginning  to  end, 
having  anything  to  do  with  matter";  denying 
causal  relations  between  mind  and  matter,  resting 
on  the  assumption  that  the  association  between 
the  two  is  quite  a  different  affair.  No,  the  plain 
man  keeps  strictly  out  of  the  wrangle  between 
these  different  schools.  The  brain  event  may  take 
place  before  or  after  he  has  exercised  his  volition, 
for  all  he  cares.  Body  and  mind  may  run  para 
or  otherwise,  the  only  interest  he  has  in  the  con- 
test between  scholars  is  the  fight  itself;  to  the 
cause  that  set  it  going  he  is  supremely  indifferent. 

In  writing  Straight  Goods  I  have  been  thinking 
a  good  deal  about  the  "plain  man"  and  his  needs, 
therefore  I  have  hesitated  to  dip  continually  into 
metaphysics  as  such,  believing  that  the  truths  that 
lie  there  can  be  shown  more  clearly  under  the 
guise  of  simple  thought.    Nevertheless  I  have  not 


INTKODUCTION  iii 

avoided  the  problems  of  down  to  date  contention, 
but  have  striven  to  strip  them  of  certain  scholarly 
appellations,  that  serve  to  make  them  mysterious 
and  out  of  reach.  Psychology,  Metaphysics  and 
Science  have  a  selected  vocabulary  of  their  own, 
and  I  have  endeavored  to  do  some  translating 
into  simpler  English  in  order  to  bring  their  un- 
doubted truths  before  the  eyes  of  the  "plain 
man."  For  instance,  he  will  have  no  patience 
with  the  word  "  epiphenomenalist, "  nor  will  he 
bother  to  hunt  it  out  in  his  pocket  dictionary,  if 
indeed  it  is  there;  and  this  is  only  an  example  of 
many  other  terms  clear  enough  to  the  student  but 
a  botheration  to  the  "plain  man.,, 

The  question  of  Consciousness,  the  most  subtle 
and  practically  impossible  question  of  psychology, 
is  so  fraught  with  mystery  that  I  have  practically 
let  it  alone.  Whether  Consciousness  is  really  ' '  the 
thing  in  itself"  arising  under  certain  conditions 
and  disappearing  under  others;  in  other  words, 
whether  it  is  existence,  as  some  of  our  thinkers  be- 
lieve, is  a  question  open  to  debate.  To  the  minds 
of  some  of  the  Doctors  of  Philosophy  consciousness 
as  such  seems  quite  apart  from  and  devoid  of  the 
element  of  energy;  others  again  claim  that  the 
individual  Unit  of  Force  necessitated  by  and  co- 
existent with  the  substance  w(e  call  matter,  is  the 
"thing  in  itself,"  and  that  consciousness  per  se 
is  only  a  factor  of  it,  sometimes  manifesting  and 
sometimes  not.  Consciousness  is  so  evasive,  sub- 
tle, intangible,  and  yet  so  absolutely  essential  to 
any  realization  of  life  in  activity,  that  an  attempt 
to  analyze  it  is  like  that  of  investigating  pure  ego, 


iv  INTRODUCTION 

which  is  neither  here  nor  there,  but  apparently 
everywhere  in  the  life  of  an  individual  being. 

But  dropping  this  vital  question,  which  like  a 
live  wire,  is  beyond  handling  unless  one  is  gloved, 
I  have  attempted  to  deal  with  subjects  of  which 
this  same  consciousness  is  well  aware,  and  trust 
that  I  have  put  them  into  words  that  may  possibly 
appeal  to  the  "plain  man"  if  to  no  one  else.  A 
certain  hermeticism  is  perfectly  right  and  proper, 
but  there  is  another  kind  of  secrecy  which  is  some- 
what farfetched.  As  this  is  the  day  of  public 
schools  and  general  education,  whatever  it  is  right 
for  the  mass  of  humanity  to  know  should  be 
thrown  upon  a  screen  with  a  magic  lantern  effect, 
that  "he  who  runs  may  read,"  and  not  only  read 
but  understand.  Metaphysic,  so  long  lying  in 
coma,  is  undoubtedly  waking  up.  When  we  read 
science  into  our  psychology,  it  will  emphatically 
assert  itself,  and  become  as  essential  as  physiology 
to  the  education  of  the  modern  world. 

And  lastly,  it  is  not  so  much  the  fact  of  con- 
sciousness that  has  concerned  me  in  this  book,  as 
the  facts  in  consciousness. 


CONCERNING  SOCIETIES. 

Everyone  knows  that  men  in  combination  often 
work  out  larger  schemes  and  consummate  greater 
undertakings  than  does  the  individual  per  se. 

For  practical  purposes,  a  cold-blooded  corpora- 
tion, bound  by  hard  and  fast  rules,  soulless,  heart- 
less, marching  straight  on  to  the  goal  desired 
without  "let  or  hindrance,"  is  a  thing  of  power 
and  wonder.  Its  unfeelingness  is  in  a  sense  its 
strength.  Societies  of  any  kind,  whether  close 
corporations,  with  faces  set  hard  toward  money 
making,  or  men  combined  in  the  pursuit  of 
science,  art  or  exploration,  have  opportunities  far 
surpassing  those  of  most  individuals  who  go 
ahead  alone.  Even  churches,  Sunday  schools, 
mystic  bodies  bolstered  by  the  assumption  of 
brotherhood,  from  the  point  of  material  inter- 
action and  exchange  of  favors,  have  the  chances 
on  their  side,  as  against  him  who  stands  apart. 

Societies  are  eminently  protective  of  "matters 
of  fact"  and  things  of  matter.  Their  parts  being 
interdependent,  they  are  self-balancing,  and  will 
stand  for  no  chicanery  or  false  pretense— that 
is,  the  majority  of  them.    Of  course,  there  are 


4  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

exceptions,  but  I  can  safely  assert  that  no  com- 
bined body  can  live  long  unless  it  is  healthy,  and 
by  healthy  I  mean  honest  and  true  to  itself. 

The  work  of  a  society  has  less  brilliancy  than 
individual  effort,  as  it  naturally  assumes  a  level 
that  includes  all  of  its  constituents.  There  is  no 
sparkling  apex  or  dazzling  skyrocket  possible 
under  the  rigidity  of  its  conditions;  but  its  pon- 
derosity and  massiveness  make  it  a  thing  of 
power.  It  marches  on  with  heavy  tread  like  the 
elephant.  The  individual  only  can  soar  like  the 
skylark. 

The  world's  greatest  achievements  are  carried 
to  a  finish  as  a  rule  by  combined  and  organized 
powers,  either  of  the  state,  a  business  corpora- 
tion, or  a  restricted  society;  but  because  of  this, 
because  of  the  impossibility  of  gaining  great 
material  results  without  it,  by  polarity  and  the 
necessity  of  balance,  there  is  another  kind  of 
work  that  is  inherently  individual,  and  will  not 
thrive  under  dictation,  or  advance  by  prescribed 
rules. 

Through  many  centuries,  called  the  dark  ages, 
the  Church  attempted  to  do  the  individual's 
thinking,  praying,  loving  and  hating  for  him;  it 
looked  at  man's  soul  through  a  spyglass,  and 
strove  to  carve  it  up  with  a  surgeon's  knife.  It 
dictated  as  to  what  an  individual  should  and 
should  not  believe;  it  shriveled  the  human  free 
will  and  forced  upon  the  intellect  the  abnormality 
of  giving  the  lie  unto  itself.  This  was  the  climax 
of  the  "Leviathan"  power  of  church  and  state, 


CONCEKNING  SOCIETIES  5 

standing  for  a  massed  organism  made  up  of  cer- 
tain vitals  that  breathed  and  spoke  and  coerced. 

But  the  organic  tends  ever  toward  dissolution. 
The  immortal  is  an  individual. 

To  condemn  on  that  account,  churches,  schools, 
or  combinations  of  any  kind,  would  be  absurd. 

Eeferring  to  the  monstrous  abuses  once  author- 
ized by  the  church  and  state,  serves  only  to  show 
their  usefulness.  The  normal  is  made  clearer 
when  we  study  the  abnormal.  Corporation  and 
combination  have  their  places,  and  the  individual 
has  his.  Some  projects  are  far  better  done  by  a 
body  of  men,  and  others  by  the  man  alone.  The 
army,  the  mass,  would  be  chaotic  without  its 
leader,  the  man.  Collaboration  is  often  attempted 
in  writing  a  book,  but  it  is  a  rare  artist  who  per- 
mits another  to  handle  the  brush  with  him  on  a 
masterpiece.  Many  combine  in  orchestra,  but 
the  great  soloist  wings  his  way  upward  alone. 

Admitting  this  to  be-,  you  ask,  why  debate  the 
question?  Simply  because  there  is  a  stage  in  a 
man's  development  when  he  cannot  be  dictated 
to  by  a  society,  nor  chained  to  an  "  incorporate 
body."  Perhaps  we  should  modify  this.  Out- 
wardly he  may  honestly  come  and  go  in  the 
"order,"  or  church  or  school  of  thought,  but 
diametrically  opposed  to  this— that  is,  inwardly, 
he  is  free. 

I  have  said  there  is  a  stage  in  the  soul's  de- 
velopment where  this  is  so,  but  I  do  not  assert 
that  all  humanity  has  reached  it;  in  fact,  a  large 
proportion    of    human    beings    are,    safely    and 


6  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

rightly,  still  in  the  nest;  they  have  not  evolved 
wings,  and  by  wings  I  mean  individual  character- 
istics that  entitle  them  to  fly.  A  bird  makes  a 
sorry  figure  when  he  flutters  and  cannot  soar. 

But  how  about  those  individuals  who  really 
have  the  whole  empyrean  at  their  command; 
whose  wings  are  strong  and  equal  to  the  travers- 
ing of  endless  space?  Are  they  condemned,  by 
their  power,  to  a  life  of  isolation?  Is  there  for 
them  no  nest,  no  home?  Most  certainly  they  have 
a  home,  but  its  windows  and  doors  are  wide  open; 
it  is  without  locks  and  bars;  it  is  neither  cleaned 
with  a  muckrake  nor  regulated  by  a  "big  stick." 
There  is,  perhaps,  no  cathedral  crouching  humbly 
beneath  a  monstrosity  of  dome,  where  the  self- 
emancipated  may  "toe  the  mark."  No  priest 
can  excommunicate  them,  nor  priestess  set  upon 
them  her  infallible  seal. 

Birds  meet  in  the  sky  and  fly  in  flocks,  or  wing 
their  way  alone,  as  the  case  may  demand;  for 
being  birds  they  have  the  prerogatives  of  their 
kind  and  the  daring  of  soaring  things.  For  prac- 
tical purposes— and  by  practical  I  mean  right 
here,  materially  safe,  financially  cautious,  com- 
mercially successful,  combiningly  productive— 
this  heavenly  way  is  quite  preposterous.  If  a 
combination  of  men  whose  final  aim  is  the  soul's 
evolution  were  to  use  their  consolidation  for 
material  matters  only,  having  from  the  point  of 
philosophy  absolute  freedom,  and  from  the  point 
of  morality  or  ethical  harmony  absolute  domina- 
tion, I  presume  they  would  have  permanent  sue- 


CONCERNING  SOCIETIES  7 

cess.  But  thus  far,  practically  all  combinations 
that  have  the  good  of  the  soul  as  their  final  reason 
for  incorporating,  presume  to  say  what  that  good 
shall  be,  irrespective  of  that  same  soul's  needs 
and  longings. 

From  the  point  of  morality  or  interdealing 
ethically,  the  society  should  have  absolute  author- 
ity; but  from  the  point  of  the  soul's  attainment 
and  intellectual  freedom,  the  society  should  have 
no  power  whatever,  positing  a  cult  of  independ- 
ence, which  in  the  last  analysis  is  the  most  binding 
dependence  of  a  self  upon  itself,  for  when  an 
individual  takes  all  heaven  for  his  domain  and 
the  earth  for  his  footstool,  he  must  have  the 
strength  for  his  own  personal  sustainment  or  fall 
back  into  the  arms  of  the  priest  and  the  protec- 
tion of  the  ritual,  mumbling  a  creed  over  and 
over,  as  though  it  were  the  last  and  only  word. 

A  corporation  is  an  artificial  person,  made  up 
of  a  combination  of  persons.  Law  is  its  father, 
and  its  mother  is  an  intangible  something  that 
holds  its  parts  together,  whether  they  shift 
among  themselves  or  not.  She  has  powers,  lia- 
bilities and  responsibilities,  peculiarly  her  own. 
A  corporation  is  of  the  genus  of  personalities, 
having  the  power  of  Unity  rather  than  that  of  the 
particulars  that  make  it  up. 

Now  I  would  ask,  how  can  such  an  "  artificial 
person"  be  the  supreme  guide  of  a  man's  immor- 
tal soul?  For  instance— imagine  an  ecclesiastical 
corporation,  made  up  of  saints.  This  generaliza- 
tion of  saints  into  a  composite  or  corporate  unity 


8  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

becomes  supreme  dictator  as  to  the  evolving  of 
souls  not  designed  in  the  scheme  of  things  for 
the  role  of  saintship  at  all.  An  anomaly  follows, 
and  man  stands  condemned. 

Now  what  is  a  congregation?  "Any  collection 
or  assemblage  of  persons  or  things."  Specific- 
ally the  word  is  used  in  a  religious  sense  as  a 
gathering  of  persons  for  religious  worship.  Of 
course,  in  a  restricted  sense,  it  may  be  brought 
under  church  government,  etc.,  but  in  its  broadest 
aspect,  the  term  stands  for  freedom. 


THREE  SOURCES  OF  HAPPINESS. 

Do  not  be  shocked!  Passionate  love,  whether 
for  country,  lover,  or  child,  is  always  selfish  and 
centered  on  an  object.  This  is  a  source  of 
ecstasy,  and  its  opposite  —  misery.  There  go 
along,  half  concealed  with  passionate  love,  jeal- 
ousy, anxiety,  responsibility,  fear.  These  com- 
bined make  misery,  but  misery,  in  its  heart  of 
hearts,  is  ecstasy,  and  worth  having,  and  makes 
life  worth  living  when  kinetic  periodically. 

The  next  source  of  happiness  is  nature  love— 
the  power  to  blend  into  all  sights  and  sounds— to 
universalize.  Its  opposite  is  specialization,  which 
comes  as  pain  after  a  bath  in  nature's  milk.  This 
source  of  happiness  produces  consolation  rather 
than  ecstasy,  and  is  longer  lived. 

The  third  is  the  One  Thing.  This  is  the  mas- 
ter's chief  source  of  joy,  though  he  indulges  in 
the  others  also.  The  opposite  of  the  One  Thing 
is  many  things.  The  One  Thing  lies  in  linking 
things.  This  is  the  binding  power— the  creative. 
IT  IS  HARD.  There  is  opposition  in  it,  resist- 
ance, desperation;  but  at  each  snap  of  the  clasp 


10  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

fastening  on  another  link  of  the  chain.  The  mas- 
ter knows  the  supreme  joy— that  of  creation.  The 
One  Thing  includes  memory  of  the  past  and  an 
approximate  knowledge  of  the  future. 


LOVING  EVERYBODY. 

It  is  the  sheerest  nonsense  to  pretend  to  love 
everybody,  and  he  who  is  guilty  of  the  lie  of  so 
asserting  is  not  worthy  of  philosophy,  except  (we 
are  apt  to  say  except)  he  have  by  that  assertion 
a  peculiar  meaning. 

When  you  begin  to  love  people  en  masse,  it  is 
because  you  have  consolidated  them  into  an  indi- 
vidual, exactly  as  the  cells  group  in  the  human 
body.  You  have  made  of  a  community  of  people 
a  grand  man,  and  love  them  as  a  being— one. 
This  is  because  you  must  specialize  and  symbolize 
in  love.  You  cannot  love  a  crowd  as  a  crowd. 
The  orator  seeks  one  face  in  the  pulsating  mass 
of  humanity  before  him,  and  the  whole  audience 
becomes  the  body  to  which  the  face  belongs. 

One  loves  his  country  because  there  is  some 
other  country  that  he  does  not  love.  His  race  is 
represented  by  its  flower,  and  stands  apart  in  its 
typical  individual  as  the  chosen  people.  If  you 
love  all  beings  on  the  planet— earth,  they  con- 
solidate into  one  in  contradistinction  to  the 
inhabitants  of  other  planets  to  whom  you  are 
indifferent. 


12  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

God,  to  be  loved,  must1  bet  specialized,  personal- 
ized. Therefore,  Christ,  the  individual.  This 
altruism  amounts  to  nothing  unless  it  be  a  con- 
solidated individualism.  You  love  somebody, 
not  everybody.  You  may  love  a  mass  of  some- 
bodies as  a  unit,  but  only  because  there  are  other 
bodies  that  you  care  nothing  about. 

Sympathy  is  invariably  individual,  and  is  in- 
variably spent  on  a  less  fortunate  individual  than 
yourself.  We  look  up  to  and,  possibly,  worship 
some  one  stronger  and  grander  than  are  we;  but 
rarely  ever  waste  sympathy  on  him  unless  he  be 
in  some  special  way  a  sufferer  or  inferior.  So, 
then,  in  teaching,  be  careful  to  make  this  distinc- 
tion. If  you  search  through  Hermetics  you  will 
find  this  law  emphasized. 

Understand  then,  that  an  abstraction  can  never 
appeal  to  our  sense  of  unity;  it  is  the  individual 
that  touches  the  unity,  and  God  was  made  in 
Christ  like  unto  man,  with  his  infirmities  and 
griefs. 


A  PSYCHIC  TRUTH. 

Hold  up  a  diamond  before  an  expert,  and  he 
will  look  upon  its  flaw.  The  flaw  will  be  all  to 
him.  By  the  flaw  will  he  gauge  its  value,  by  the 
flaw  will  he  condemn  it;  its  glitter  and  beauty 
will  vanish  in  the  diamond's  defect.  Let  a 
musician  listen  to  another;  his  ear  is  attuned  to 
discords  rather  than  to  harmonies.  He  listens  for 
a  slight  failing  in  the  tone,  a  defect  in  the  touch, 
a  skipping  of  notes;  and  he  judges  by  the  flaws. 
Ignoring  the  mighty  crash  of  harmonies,  he  sees 
the  humpy  mouse  of  ugliness  only  which  the 
great  wave  of  melody  bore  upon  its  breast  as  a 
beautiful  face  bears  a  mole. 

In  judging  character  you  are  apt  to  dwell  upon 
the  flaw,  though  a  mere  speck  on  the  white  breast 
of  a  dove.  In  the  critic's  eye  it  grows  until  he 
is  blinded  to  the  beauty  and  charm  of  the  whole. 
The  flaw  becomes  a  part  of  himself  at  last,  and 
the  man  judged  goes  clean  and  free  from  pollu- 
tion; the  critic  has  taken  his  thorn,  it  has  been 
transferred,  much  to  his  disgust  and  amazement. 

Now  for  a  psychic  truth,  over  which  I  desire 


?4  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

you  to  ponder.  Never  look  a  living  creature 
straight  in  the  eyes  holding  the  gaze,  unless  you 
wish  to  establish  between  yourself  and  it  a  psychic 
bond.  This  bond  once  established  between  your- 
self and  a  cat,  a  dog,  a  beetle,  a  fly,  a  fish,  a  man, 
causes  you  to  partake,  in  a  degree,  its  sufferings 
and  its  joys.  You  cannot  escape,  you  are  bound 
by  the  gossamer  cord  of  sympathy. 

Catch  not,  then,  the  gaze  of  a  creature  that  you 
desire  neither  to  hate  nor  love,  suffer  with  nor 
enjoy. 


THE  PROFESSIONAL  PHILOSOPHER. 

Every  philosopher  has  a  profession;  philosophy 
is  never  his  work.  Work  is  not  for  philosophy, 
but  philosophy  for  work.  Philosophy  makes  a 
lawyer  great,  a  teacher  wise,  an  artist  powerful; 
even  a  common  laborer,  divine.  To  be  sure,  there 
are  doctors  of  psychics  in  all  colleges,  but  this  is 
not  the  question.  I  deplore  and  pity  that  man, 
woman,  or  child,  who  reverses  all  things  and 
serves  philosophy  instead  of  forcing  philosophy 
to  serve  him. 

One  may  take  rest  in  his  profession,  he  may 
adopt  the  business  of  idleness;  but  if  he  be  a 
philosopher  he  will  know  how  to  do  it.  Philos- 
ophy will  help  him  to  rest.  But  to  be  a  profes- 
sional philosopher  is  more  grievous  than  to<  be  a 
professor  of  religion.  Unless  a  man  becomes  a 
recluse  for  a  purpose,  he  should  have  a  business 
among  men.  This  throws  him  in  continual  con- 
tact with  his  kind.  The  professional  philosopher 
should  be  shunned  like  the  professional  philan- 
thropist. 

Remember,  then,  that  whatever  you  do,  whether 


16  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

at  work  or  idle,  philosophy  is  at  your  service, 
and  you  are  its  master.  Should  you  serve  philos- 
ophy, you  will  be  the  meanest  wretch  on  earth; 
for  there  is  nothing  so  despicable  as  a  servant  of 
philosophy  and  a  slave  of  religion.  Force  philos- 
ophy to  serve  you,  and  you  are  a  king  in  power. 
I  do  not  argue  against  the  change  of  environment 
or  work,  if  necessary  or  desirable,  but  against 
the  overthrow  of  the  work  of  the  world  for  philos- 
ophy's sake. 

Philosophy  should  touch  up  all  work,  of  what- 
ever kind,  with  gold  and  silver.  Philosophy 
means  wisdom  in  work;  it  is  a  key,  a  grasp,  a 
means,  a  passport.  To  devote  yourself  to  philos- 
ophy, is  to  be  a  fool ;  to  force  philosophy  to  serve 
you,  is  to  be  wise. 

The  philosopher  makes  over  environment, 
adapts  easily  to  circumstances,  transforms  con- 
ditions, forces  object,  and  colors  and  tints  ugli- 
ness with  beauty. 


EXCUSES. 

Show  me  a  man  who  is  not  given  to  making 
excuses  for  his  shortcomings,  a  man  who  is  calm, 
and  I  will  stamp  him  as  great— rare.  Is  gold 
easy  to  find?  Are  diamonds  as  cheap  as  glass? 
Is  beauty  an  everyday  commodity?  The  man 
who  is  constantly  excusing  himself  is  conscience- 
stricken,  and  therefore  is  not  great. 

Let  us  analyze.  What  is  the  origin  of  an  ex- 
cuse? Simply  a  secret  feeling  that  you  have 
allowed  indolence  and  self-love  and  other  vague 
reasons  to  take  the  place  of  a  duty  left  undone. 
You  have  neglected  something,  and  you  realize 
it.  Then  you  hunt  around  to  find  an  excuse  with 
which  to  veneer  yourself.  The  very  fact  that  you 
wish  to  cover  yourself  with  the  varnish  of  apology 
shows  that  you  have  something  to  hide.  Ver- 
bosity is  the  legacy  of  the  apologist.  He  lathers 
himself  with  words.  Does  he  sin  against  himself? 
Does  he  over-eat,  over-drink,  over-sleep?  Does 
he  neglect  the  essentials  of  health  and  unfit  him- 
self for  his  working  life  ?  Behold,  how  he  bubbles 
with  the  foam  of  excuses.    Does  he  forget  his 


18  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

friends?  Is  he  ungrateful?  Has  he  abused  con- 
fidence? Has  he  stolen,  lied,  cheated,  maligned, 
broken  promises?  How  tender  is  he  of  his  own 
faults;  how  he  gushes  with  self -justification ! 
Strange,  nevertheless,  he  is  harsh  with  others, 
making  no  allowance  whatever  for  their  short- 
comings, having  no  charity  for  their  self-indulg- 
ences. 

Are  excuses  never  excusable,  then,  you  may 
well  ask?  Rarely.  Why  the  excuse?  If  you  have 
done  evil,  or  caused  evil,  directly  or  indirectly— 
why  not  admit  it,  and  condone  it?  Why  spit 
upon  a  child's  dirty  face,  and  call  it  washed?  A 
great  man  often  does  evil,  and  frankly  says  so; 
but  he  seldom  tries  to  adorn  his  ugliness  with  an 
excuse. 

People  excuse  themselves  out  of  hell,  out  of 
heaven,  out  of  education,  out  of  fulfilled  ambition. 
"I  might  have  done  this  or  that,"  they  say.  "I 
might  have  had  this  or  that  if  it  had  not  been 
for  so  and  so,"  " Circumstances  were  such,"  "my 
situation  was  thus  and  so."  Yes,  yes,  yes,  we 
understand.  We  hear  it  also  in  matters  of  philos- 
ophy. "When  we  get  this  matter  straightened 
we  shall  start  once  more;"  as  if  a  philosophy 
were  not  the  very  solver  of  problems,  the  panacea 
of  woes.  This  travesty  on  philosophy  were  indeed 
amusing,  were  it  not  so  pathetic.  You  excuse 
yourself  from  concentrating,  from  persisting, 
from  willing  even ;  and  by  you,  I  mean  everybody 
who  does. 

The    habit    of    making  excuses  grows  on  one 


EXCUSES  19 

until  his  characteristic  look  is  that  of  a  man  who 
is  hunted  by  creditors.  He  dislikes  the  reaping 
of  his  own  crops  sown  in  laziness,  and  so  he  says, 
"Excuse  me."  It  is  a  polite  phrase,  and  is  well 
enough  as  a  pass  word;  but  please  do  not  use  it 
sincerely.  The  tendency  to  inertia  is  in  man  as 
it  is  in  a  stone.  Effort  is  effort,  and  he  is  ignor- 
ant who  expects  great  achievements  to  spring 
from  the  soft  head  of  laziness.  The  skull  of  Jupi- 
ter from  which  Minerva  sprung  was  hard,  and 
had  to  be  split  with  an  ax  before  (with  tremen- 
dous birth  pangs)  the  goddess  could  be  born. 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND. 

In  the  first  place,  what  is  body?  Second,  what 
is  mind?    And,  third,  what  is  healing? 

Body,  according  to  the  accepted  idea,  is  ''mate- 
rial organized  substance,  whether  living  or  dead. ' ' 
It  is  "physical  structure."  More  generally 
speaking,  it  is  apparently  "inert  matter." 

Mind  is  "that  which  feels,  wills,  thinks— the 
conscious  subject,  Ego— soul;"  specifically  it  id 
"intellect  as  distinguished  from  feeling." 

Healing  is  "cure— means  of  making  whole." 

Having  defined  the  terms,  we  discover  that  we 
have  but  a  superficial  knowledge  of  them  after 
all.  When  I  say  body  is  "inert  matter,"  I  know 
it  is  not  vital  principle  per  se,  but  discovering 
what  it  is  not,  is  in  no  way  demonstrating  what 
it  is.  A  horse  is  not  a  dog— yet  what  is  a  horse? 
A  flower  is  not  its  perfume  nor  its  color— what  is 
it  then?  In  the  last  analysis  no  one  knows  what 
matter  is.  Physicists  have  plenty  of  hypotheses 
in  regard  to  it,  and  for  want  of  exact  knowledge 
are  obliged  to  rest  content. 

Again,  in  the  last  analysis  we  are  grossly  ignor- 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND  21 

ant  about  mind.  We  realize  some  of  its  powers, 
and  are  aware  that  it  is  diametrically  opposed  to 
that  which  we  call  matter;  but  the  ultimate 
"mind  stuff,"  what  is  it?  Naming  it  energy, 
force,  consciousness,  motion,  dynamics,  etc.,  is 
simply  substituting  other  terms,  without  solving 
the  problem.  Secondary,  experimental  compre- 
hension of  mind  is  reasonably  easy,  but  an  under- 
standing of  its  primal  nature  is  beyond  us. 

In  regard  to  healing  or  cure— whether  it  be  rad- 
ical or  superficial,  is  a  question  also.  The  soothing 
of  a  body  into  a  temporary  adjustment  of  its 
parts  to  each  other,  so  that  pain  subsides,  is  not 
necessarily  a  cure.  The  animal  organs  have  an 
accommodating  way  of  helping  each  other,  or 
accepting  outside  assistance,  taking  on  all  the 
assumptions  of  wholeness,  when  in  reality  they 
are  far  from  normal  or  complete. 

False  teeth  in  the  mouth,  soon  forgotten  as 
such,  grind  away  like  a  genuine  set.  A  man 
adopts  a  Cork  leg,  and  gets  quite  in  accord  with 
it,  or  even  two  Cork  legs.  Spectacles  are  perched 
on  the  nose,  and  an  individual  reads  small  print 
as  though  with  normal  eyes.  The  human  stomach 
puts  up  with  all  sorts  of  insults,  and  adapts  itself 
to  unreasonable  condiments.  The  palate  learns 
to  like  what  it  naturally  hates,  for  the  sake  of 
peace;  the  nose,  for  the  same  reason,  endures  and 
enjoys  the  rankest  odors.  All  this  goes  to  show 
that  we  may  think  we  are  healed,  when  in  reality 
we  are  not.    For  the  sense  of  comfortableness  and 


22  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

i 

adaptiveness  of  the  body  is  easily  mistaken  for 
wholeness  or  health. 

Having  discovered  then,  that  body,  mind,  and 
cure  are  too  deep  for  us  to  sound  as  to  what  they 
really  are,  we  are  driven  to  treat  the  subject  from 
the  standpoint  of  experience  only,  dropping  at 
once  the  momentous  question  of  their  elemental 
values. 

But  experience  is  a  term  of  tremendous  import. 
Experimental  knowledge  is  in  its  infancy.  We 
are  as  ignorant  as  Hobbes  as  to  what  effects  will 
result  from  new  causes  till  we  put  them  to  the 
test;  but  once  finding  out,  we  are  sure  of  fixed 
facts,  and  a  law  that  never  fails.  Experience, 
then,  gives  us  stability  through  the  unfailing  law 
that  goes  with  it,  and  inspiration  to  push  ahead 
for  new  thrills  in  untried  fields  not  yet  explored. 

Returning  to  the  subject  of  body,  mind,  and 
healing,  we  find  that  we  have  from  the  standpoint 
of  our  common  ground,  matter  or  body  as  one 
pole  of  our  being,  and  dynamic  mind  for  the 
other.  Now  the  question  is— can  healing  be 
achieved,  by  the  pole  mind,  on  the  other  pole 
matter  or  body?  That  is,  have  the  poles  power 
over  each  other?  If  so,  has  mind  more  power 
than  matter,  or  vice  versa?  Which  dominates,  or 
does  neither? 

Let  us  start  with  the  body.  Does  it,  can  it, 
affect  mind?  I  am  arguing  now  from  the  com- 
mon ground  of  consciousness  and  knowledge,  not 
from  the  impossible  base  of  what  mind  and 
matter  in  their  finality  really  are.    I  am  arguing, 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND  23 

too,  from  my  own  personal  experience,  believing 
by  analogy  that  my  experience  is  likely  to  be  the 
lot  of  my  fellows  also. 

From  the  common  sense  standpoint,  then,  I 
discover  that  my  mind  is  exceedingly  susceptible 
to  the  condition  of  my  body;  if  the  organs  are  in 
harmony  with  each  other,  doing  the  full  share  of 
work  assigned  to  them,  I  am  well,  and  my  mind, 
as  far  as  its  house  of  flesh  is  concerned,  is  quite 
at  ease.  On  the  contrary,  an  insignificant  ail- 
ment—a toothache,  a  pin  prick,  a  corn,  or  a  slight 
attack  of  indigestion,  will  unhinge  my  thinking 
powers,  and  unless  I  am  hypnotized  into  ignoring 
my  trivial  pain,  or  am  strong  enough  to  will  it 
down,  it  becomes  excruciating  and  overthrows 
my  mental  equilibrium. 

Reversing  the  picture,  what  is  on  the  other 
side?  Suppose,  for  instance,  my  conscience 
troubles  me,  or  I  am  in  deadly  fear,  or  am  raging 
mad,  or  desperately  bereaved— my  digestion 
becomes  impaired,  my  head  aches,  my  nerves  are 
prostrated,  my  heart  palpitates,  my  sight  is  dim; 
in  fact,  my  whole  body  loses  its  tone  and  is  seared 
and  blasted  by  the  cyclone  in  my  mind. 

Interaction  between  mind  and  body  is  a  fact 
firmly  established  by  experience,  and  accepting 
this  as  truth,  are  we  putting  it  to  practical  use, 
simply  allowing  this  interaction  to  go  on  haphaz- 
ard; or  are  we  bringing  our  will  to  bear  upon  this 
law?  That  is,  are  we  pitting  law  against  law? 
for  there  is  as  surely  the  law  of  will,  as  there  is 
that  of  relationship. 


24  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Now  the  individual  mind,  as  such,  has  a  Unit 
Will— one;  but  the  individual's  body,  on  the  con- 
trary, has  a  million  or  billion  wills,  as  the  case 
may  be.  Physiology,  biology,  all  the  up-to-date 
"ologies  and  isms"  that  pertain  to  body  show 
the  countless  individuals  that  go  to  make  up  the 
material  cell  life  of  that  combination  dominated 
by  the  unit  called  Man.  His  "living  environ- 
ment" of  flesh,  absurdly  called  inert  matter,  is  a 
world  of  individuals  of  all  sizes,  shapes  and 
powers.  So  the  many-willed  body  of  a  human 
being  is  but  the  pole  that  lies  opposite  and  paral- 
lels the  one-willed  mind.  Query— Can  the  domi- 
nant will  of  mind  regulate  the  multiple  wills  of 
body,  or  vice  versa? 

As  before  said,  our  experience  is  yet  in  infancy. 
What  new  effect  will  be  born  from  a  pregnant 
cause,  we  have  yet  to  learn.  The  causes  of  today 
are  the  effects  of  yesterday,  or  in  other  words,  an 
evolution.  Latent  powers  in  mind  are  being  real- 
ized. Living  matter,  or  rather  moving  matter,  is 
only  half  explored. 

But  setting  all  this  aside,  and  accepting  man 
as  he  accepts  himself— a  Unit,  or  individual  com- 
posed of  body  and  mind  or  "dust  and  energy," 
interacting,  inseparable,  polarized— finding  by 
experience  that  his  mind  can  be  tortured,  even 
unbalanced,  by  his  body,  and  his  body  almost 
murdered  by  his  mind— what  is  he  going  to  do 
about  it? 

I   am   not   intending  to  investigate   abnormal 
cases,  where  martyrs  burned  at  the  stake  have 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND  25 

dominated  their  suffering  by  radiant  spirit,  where 
a  man  of  science  of  the  Galileo  stamp  has  suc- 
cumbed in  the  torture  chamber  and  lied  in  the 
face  of  truth;  for  these  only  go  to  show  that 
exceptionally  under  great  stress  and  strain,  the 
element  of  time  being  a  factor,  the  body  comes 
uppermost  triumphantly,  or  vice  versa.     I  shall 
simply  consider  an  ordinary,  everyday,  sick-and- 
well  man,  with  an  individual  will  running  para  to 
colonies  upon  colonies  of  other  wills  which  make 
up  his  body,  and  belong  to  him  by  right  of  unity. 
Yes,  his  body  belongs  to  him,  matter  belongs 
to  him— he  cannot  exist  apart  from  it  in  some 
form;  but  his  possessions    are    conditioned    and 
subject  to  the  law  of  the  organic,  and  the  prin- 
ciple of  relativity.    He  has  something  more  than 
a  vested  right  in  matter,    he   has    an    inherent, 
eternal  right.    It  is  the  other  half  of  himself— the 
live  half,  that  stands  for  the  many  balanced  ever- 
lastingly against  his  Ego,  the  one.    But  because 
that  half  of  him  is  the  many  and  he  himself  is 
the  one,  equilibrium  between  the  two  is  hard  to 
keep.    One  or  the  other  pole  is  likely  for  the  time 
being  to  dominate,  and  the  warfare  since  Adam, 
of  fighting  the  flesh  or  mastering  the  spirit,  is 
going  on  continually  with  all  save  those  who  have 
learned  the  art  of  balance  between  the  two,  or 
approximate  poise. 

The  great  error  lies  in  the  idea— never  in  the 
least  borne  out  by  facts— that  one  or  the  other 
pole  should  be  annihilated.  A  Schopenhauer 
would  kill  the  will  or  mind,  and  a  Brahman  zealot 


26  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

would  crucify  the  body;  a  modern  priestess  would 
deny  that  same  body  a  right  even  to  be;  and  a 
modern  phallic  worshiper  would  immerse  mind 
in  the  symbolic  fetish  of  sex. 

But  the  sane,  honest  thinker,  who  looks  on  both 
sides  of  the  question,  demands  fair  play  between 
the  poles  of  himself,  and  strives  by  experience  to 
find  out  at  just  what  point  body  and  mind  reach 
a  moving  equilibration.  He  does  not  say  to  his 
body,  "You  take  mind  in  hand  and  heal  and  domi- 
nate it,"  nor  to  his  mind,  "You  force  body  to 
health,"  in  defiance  of  its  indestructible  law  of 
relativity.  On  the  contrary,  being  no  fool,  he 
recognizes  the  principle  of  the  organic,  and  allows 
it  freedom  to  accomplish  its  healing  work,  if 
possible,  in  its  own  way. 

This  abnormal  forcing  of  body  to  play  the  part 
of  mind,  and  mind  to  play  the  part  of  body,  is 
what  does  the  mischief  in  the  attempt  at  cures  of 
either  one  or  the  other. 

The  question,  then,  sifts  down  to  this:  If  body 
has  its  own  self-governing  law,  namely,  that  of 
rhythm  and  relationship,  adapting  its  parts  with 
perfect  accord  one  with  the  other,  resulting  in 
harmony,— how  shall  man  know  when  the  like- 
wise eternal  law  of  discord  is  opposing  it? 

The  answer  is  simple.  In  the  majority  of  cases, 
pain  or  discomfort  is  the  newsbearer. 

We  condemn  pain,  we  deny  its  right  to  be,  we 
even  lie  unto  ourselves  and  pretend  that  it  is 
not;  but  perhaps  if  we  realized  that  this  much 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND  27 

maligned  messenger  is  often  a  life-saver,  we  might 
not  class  it  hereafter  among  the  unmitigated  evils. 

"Without  painl  we  should  probably  have  no  way 
of  ascertaining  the  disorder  and  chaos  of  the 
body,  and  would  therefore  fail  to  apply  remedies. 
By  applying  remedies  I  do  not  necessarily  mean 
medicine,  though  there  are  cases  where  both 
medicine  and  the  attention  of  a  specialist  are 
absolutely  essential  to  a  restoration  of  harmony. 
The  organs,  tissues  and  nerves  cry  and  shriek  for 
help  in  the  voice  of  pain,  and  the  mind  proceeds 
to  obtain  assistance.  In  numerous  instances, 
however,  pain  comes  as  a  caution  and  warning 
to  mind  to1  let  body  entirely  alone;  to<  cease  feed- 
ing and  over-using  it,  thus  giving  it  a  chance 
through  its  law  of  adaptability  to  readjust  and 
heal  itself. 

The  office  of  mind,  then,  in  reference  to  its 
other  pole  of  body,  is  to  treat  it  scientifically, 
that  is  rationally,  not  interferingly. 

Learn  by  experience  and  investigation  the  in- 
herent rights  and  relationships  of  the  organs  of 
matter  that  make  up  your  physical  structure, 
and  let  the  law  of  them  have  its  fair  chance.  A 
body  that  can  evolve  itself  is  quite  likely  to  be 
able  to  look  out  for  itself.  The  best  kind  of  mind 
cure  is  that  just  one  of  recognizing  body  cure. 
If  the  mind  once  realizes  the  dignity,  wonder, 
mystery  of  matter  in  organization,  it  will  surely 
see  also  the  stupendous  law  of  the  organic  that 
acts  within  it.  A  man  becoming  fully  conscious 
of  his  body's  inherent  power  as  body,  will  trust 


28  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

it  long  enough  to  practically  let  it  alone,  barring 
accidents  or  exceptional  cases,  and  will  find  him- 
self in  the  same  category  with  the  healthy  child 
of  a  savage,  whose  mind  is  yet  too  slightly  devel- 
oped to  materially  interfere  with  his  bodily  func- 
tions. 

The  real  mind  cure  method  has  a  ''mind  your 
own  business"  basis,  that  is,  a  recognition  by 
mind  of  the  rights  and  powers  of  matter,  as  the 
other  pole  of  itself.  Once  getting  this  insight, 
and  treating  the  body  as  powerful  and  self-ad- 
justable, at  the  same  time  recognizing  the  inter- 
action between  itself  and  mind,  man  might  live  on 
indefinitely  and  in  comparatively  sound  health. 
Always  alert  to  recognize  the  signs  of  pain,  not 
morbidly  but  scientifically,  helping  body  in  any 
reasonable  way,  by  medicine  or  otherwise,  when 
the  help  must  be  had,  letting  it  alone  when  it  so 
demands,— in  fact,  treating  it  as  a  man  should 
treat  his  wife  or  a  lover  his  eternal  mate,  watch- 
its  rhythms  and  guarding  against  its  passions,— 
he  ought  to  become  a  Methuselah  and  inhabit 
the  earth  for  centuries.  By  science,  fair  play, 
and  a  growing  experience  well  used,  he  ought 
also  to  get  rid  of  that  bugbear  called  old  age, 
with  its  brittle  arteries,  gray  hairs,  and  toothless 
jaws.  Knowing  balance  or  poise,  the  mind  should 
never  permit  the  body  to  go  the  pace  that  leads 
to  disorganization;  the  body  should  be  allowed 
liberty,  not  license. 

Healing,  then,  would  better  be  called  balancing, 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND  29 

or  an  establishing  of  equipoise.  Body  and  mind 
should  be  good  friends,  splendid  running  mates; 
but  as  it  is  now,  one  seems  everlastingly  trying 
to  get  the  better  of  the  other,  and  the  individual 
owner  of  them  both  finds  it  convenient  to  grow 
old  or  die  " without  let  or  hindrance."  He  per- 
mits his  body  to  become,  debauched  and  carrion- 
fed,  and  groans  because  he  is  chained  to  a  house 
of  flesh;  or,  on  the  contrary,  allows  his  body  no 
rights  at  all,  and  wails  because  it  cries  out  in 
pain.  He  denies  that  there  is  any  ''dust"  what- 
ever, and  becomes  an  oracle  without  its  temple. 
Mind  is  married  to  matter,  and  cannot  escape, 
so  what  is  the  use  of  flying  from  one  state  to 
another  in  frantic  effort  to  obtain  divorce.  Far 
better  is  it  for  a  man  to  establish  amicable  rela- 
tions between  the  polarities  of  himself,  learning 
by  experience  how  to  apply  the  inherent  laws 
of  either  justly  and  fairly,  thus  striking  an 
approximate  balance  that  assures  him  sound 
health,  escape  from  old  age,  and  more  years  than 
he  will  care  to  count. 

Though  there  is  certainly  a  law  of  the  organic, 
and  a  principle  of  balanced  relationships,  there 
is  another  law  that  works  towards  dissolution. 
Should  we  look  more  closely  we  shall  find  that 
these  apparently  two  principles  are  really  but 
one.  An  over  tendency  to  organize  and  relate 
would  outreach  itself,  as  a  house  may  be  built  too 
tall,  or  a  person  grow  too  large  to  adapt  to  the 
environment   about  him,   consequently  going  to 


30  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

pieces  from  congestion  or  over-production;  as  if 
the  organizing  principle  could  say,  "I  have  over- 
done this,  I  must  tear  it  down,  get  back  to  orig- 
inal matter  and  try  again."  So  after  all,  the 
law  of  dissolution  may  be  but  a  serviceable  aspect 
of  the  law  of  synthetic  structure. 

But  right  here  comes  the  mind's  opportunity  to 
heal,  or  balance  body.  If  a  man  finds  himself  so 
large  he  cannot  enter  a  door  or  associate  with  his 
kind,  he  well  knows  that  dissolution  is  near  by, 
and  if  he  as  mind  does  not  interfere,  then  the  law 
of  body  will  take  a  hand  and  dissolve  the  house 
of  flesh  and  reorganize. 

In  fact,  experience  and  athletic  balance  will 
show  him  a  thousand  ways  to  keep  the  other  pole 
of  himself  adaptable  to  the  world's  environment. 

I  have  previously  stated  that  if  body  made 
itself,  it  probably  knows  how  to  take  care  of 
itself.  This  sentence  is  prefixed  with  an  if.  But 
whether  it  made  itself,  in  the  womb  of  the  mother 
who  fed  it  the  material  with  which  to>  organize 
and  construct,  or  the  future  tenant— the  ego  that 
took  possession— attended  to  its  upbuilding,  or 
God  by  his  fiat  demanded  that  it  should  be,  makes 
no  difference  in  respect  to  its  inherent  power  to 
hold  itself  together  in  harmony  with  the  Ego 
that  makes  use  of  it.  Whatever  the  power  that 
was  back  of  the  miracle  of  organized  body,  it, 
having  capacity  to  produce  such  a  wonder, 
most  certainly  has  genius  and  strength  enough 
to  maintain  it.    Disharmony  is  undoubtedly  the 


HEALING  OF  THE  BODY  BY  MIND  31 

cause  of  its  breaking  up,  and  harmony  that 
which  holds  it  together.  If  man  then  gets  some 
understanding  of  the  law-working  power  that 
built  his  body,  he  is  pretty  likely  to  be  able  to 
maintain  it  intact  as  long  as  he  so  desires. 


THE  UNIT  OF  FORCE  AND  THE 
INDIVIDUAL. 

What  is  a  Unit  of  Force?  What  is  an  indi- 
vidual? 

To  the  first  question  I  answer  promptly,  that 
force  per  se  I  know  nothing  about,  neither  do  you, 
nor  any  other.  Whence  it  comes,  how  and  why, 
are    questions    beyond    the    power    of    intellect. 

What  we  do  know,  however,  in  its  secondary 
attribute  is  energy  or  force  manifested  in  that 
which  we  call  matter.  Now  a  Unit  of  this  energy 
or  manifested  force,  would  seem  to  be  a  certain 
prescribed  amount,  a  quantitative  expression.  But 
this  is  no  answer.  I  must  look  deeper.  A  unit 
would  be  better  defined  as  a  quantitative  possibil- 
ity; that  is,  a  generative  power  equal  to  a  fixed 
value.  But  again,  I  am  in  a  quandary.  Does 
it  not  take  power  to  generate  power,— force  to 
generate  force? 

Well,  then,  I  must  go  round  in  a  circle  and  say 
that  there  is  an  eternal  Unit  of  Force,  with  a 
constant  power  to  express  (a  better  word,  per- 
haps, than  generate)  a  fixed  value;  and  I  do  not 
posit    this    from    any    knowledge    we    have    of 


THE  UNIT  OF  FORCE  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL        33 

force  per  se.  On  the  contrary,  I  reason  from 
our  knowledge  of  energy  or  force  in  matter.  If, 
then,  we  have  units  of  energy,  that  is,  fixed  quan- 
titative values  of  energy  expressing  themselves 
through  those  which  we  call  individuals,  what  is 
an  individual?  Answer:  An  individual  is  some- 
thing which  cannot  be  divided.  It  is  determined, 
and  has  identity  and  continuity.  It  is  a  being- 
One.  It  stands  in  a  sense  for  independence  and 
egoism.  In  other  words,  it  is  a  Unit  of  Force 
either  latent  or  active.  It  is  not  exactly  a  lump 
of  coal  with  a  quiescent  power  to  burn.  It  is 
not  necessarily  combustion  bottled  up.  Kinetic 
it  will  act,  and  latent  it  will  sleep;  but  either 
way  and  beyond  and  above  both,  it  is  self-ener- 
gizing, no  matter  how,  whether  from  drawing  on 
outside  resources,  such  as  food  and  air,  or  inner 
resources,— electrical  or  magnetic.  Its  power  to 
so  draw  is  not  the  stuff  utilized,  but  something 
that  cannot  find  its  explanation  in  the  interaction 
or  assimilation  of  material  or  electrical  products. 
I  have  a  habit  of  presenting  man  as  an  illustra- 
tion, though  a  Unit  of  Force  is  not  necessarily 
human. 

Man,  then,  from  an  experimental  standpoint, 
and  as  far  as  we  know,  is  a  Unit  of  Force  called 
an  individual;  that  is,  he  has  a  limited,  but 
constant  power  to  generate  energy,  or  rather  to 
express  it,  beyond  and  above  the  material  called 
to  his  assistance  in  so  doing.  In  other  words,  the 
builder  of  the  fire  called  man,  is  not  the  fuel 
nor  the  dissipated  energy  that  results  therefrom. 


34  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Neither  the  combustion  nor  the  manifold  expres- 
sions accruing,  are  the  individual  Unit  manipu- 
lating the  same.  But  while  he  is  not,  in  one 
sense,  the  result  of  his  own  doing,  in  another 
sense  he  is. 

Now  here  we  must  think  closely.  Something 
comes  from  this  constant  redistributing  of  energy, 
everlastingly  necessitated  by  this  limited  but  con- 
stant amount  of  unknown,  dynamic  impulse  behind 
it.  What  is  it?  It  is  the  other  half  of  the  indi- 
vidual or  the  indivisible— his  world,  self-created 
and  inseparable  from  him.  It  is  the  many  of 
himself  polarized  to  the  One  or  Ego.  But  "the 
many"  you  say,  are  egos,  too,  self-willed,  and  not 
his  own  unit.  True,  but  they  are  within  the  field 
of  that  unit's  energy,  as  we  are  in  the  field  of 
the  Universal  energy;  that  is,  the  man's  inner 
world  and  the  unit  of  productive  energy  are  eter- 
nally inseparable. 

But  here  a  more  difficult  problem  presents  itself: 
How  can  a  quantitatively  fixed  unit  of  energy  go 
on  to  infinity  producing  phenomena'?  We  must 
remember  right  here,  that  the  limitation  in  man's 
productive  power,  dynamically  considered,  does 
not  lie  in  time  as  a  whole,  but  in  a  fraction  of 
time.  That  is,  at  any  given  time,  man  is  limited 
to  a  given  accomplishment,  according  to  his  power 
to  express  in  matter  as  energy.  His  force  would 
seem  almost  to  be  numbered,  as  a  unit-energy  of 
say  two,  four,  or  six  capacity.  Remember  again, 
that  I  am  dealing  now  with  his  fullest  capability, 
not  with  that  possibly  expressed;  for  more  likely 


THE  UNIT  OF  FORCE  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL       35 

than  not  he  allows  to  lie  dormant,  unused,  or  lat- 
ent, a  reserve  power,  like  money  in  bank,  not 
drawn  upon  unless  the  occasion  demands. 

If  my  position  be  correct,  that  man  is  a  Unit  of 
Force  sitting  centrally,  so  to  speak,  among  his 
creations,— in  one  sense  dominating  his  expressed 
field  of  energy,  in  another  sense  dominated  by  it, 
—individual  in  that  he  and  his  world  of  energized 
things  cannot  be  divided;  individual  also  in  that 
his  generative  power  is  constant  and  true  to>  itself; 
myriad  and  self  willing  in  that  within  his  field  of 
energy  he  can  manipulate  its  expressions  and  cre- 
ate or  lie  dormant  through  a  regulated  rhythm,  we 
have,  as  an  individual  unit,  an  apparent  contra- 
diction which  the  real  thinker  resolves  into  a 
paradox. 

As  man,  then,  you  are1  a  being  with  exhaustless 
resource,  limited,  nevertheless,  by  time  and  num- 
ber. As  though  behind  you  were  an  eternal  spring 
of  life-giving  water,  that  you  are  forced  to  imbibe 
through  a  pipe  restricted  in  size,  yours  might  be 
a  four  inch,  mine  a  two;  you  in  one  instant  have 
twice  the  quantity  that  I  obtain,  yet  that  does 
not  prevent  my  obtaining  your  quota  a  moment 
after.  The  element  of  time  and  all  that  goes  with 
time,  such  as  space,  quantity,  quality,  modality, 
etc.,  are  the  restraining  elements;  that  is,  man's 
manifested  world,  even  in  himself,  strikes  hands 
with  restrictions  at  once,  and  his  unit  of  indi- 
vidual energy,  while  unrestricted  as  to  its  inex- 
haustible power  of  indivisibility  and  resource,  is 
a  force  of  constant  and  fixed  value  from  its  point 


36  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

of  expression.  Remembering  that  a  paradox  is 
not  a  contradiction,  and  that  in  the  Unit  of  Force 
itself  is  the  unassailable  law  of  polarity,  I  believe 
that  as  far  as  science  and  experience  have  gone, 
my  hypothesis  of  the  individual  unit  per  se  is 
beyond  dispute. 


OUR  RIGHT  AND  TITLE  IN  HAPPINESS. 

In  one  kind  of  happiness  we  as  individuals 
have  an  inherent  right  and  title,  in  another  we 
have  not. 

The  object  of  life  is  life,  and  its  elixir  is  happi- 
ness. 

In  the  realm  of  relativity  the  rule  holds  good 
that  the  greatest  happiness  to  the  greatest  num- 
ber is  as  near  the  ideal  as  can  possibly  be  reached, 
as  relativity  by  its  very  nature  implies  immense 
misery,  whether  or  no.  Relativity  implies  a  con- 
dition where  many  people  are  striving  for  the 
same  thing.  Whether  it  be  wealth,  fame  or  love, 
there  are  always  plenty  of  contestants  in  the 
game,  and  some  must  of  necessity  go  to  the  wall. 

One  who  enters  the  more  active  forms  of  life 
knows  intuitively  that  he  must  fight  every  step  of 
the  way  towards  that  which  he  wants,  as  many 
others  will  be  reaching  after  the  same  thing,  with 
perhaps  as  good  a  right  as  he.  In  the  quieter 
forms  of  life  the  game  will  perhaps  be  less  intense, 
nevertheless  he  will  have  to  play  it,  and  play  it 
too  with  his  eye  on  the  happiness  of  the  greatest 
number.    If  not  the  happiness  most  certainly  the 


38  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

greatest  good,  for  the  realm  of  relativities  is 
subject  to  great  and  little,  high  and  low,  good  and 
evil. 

Now  the  other  kind  of  happiness,  that  to  which 
yon  have  absolute,  inherent  right  and  title,  con- 
cerns your  own  particular  self  irrespective  of 
others  so  far  as  the  happiness  goes.  This  happi- 
ness comes  like  dew  from  heaven  upon)  your  soul, 
when  you  have  done  a  great,  good  or  self-sacri- 
ficing act.  It  results  not  from  the  attainment  of 
what  you  want  necessarily,  but  more  often  from 
yielding  your  personal  desire  to  the  general  good. 
This  happiness  is  the  reward,  inherent,  of  un- 
selfish virtue,  a  certain  revelling  in  virtue  for  her 
own  pure  sake.  Now  we  are  not  preaching  a 
foolish  self-sacrifce  that  pampers  the  selfishness 
of  others.  On  the  contrary,  we  condemn  this  as 
unjust,  and  a  breeder  of  misery  to  the  one  who  so 
abases  himself  as  to  lie  prostrate  that  his  fellows 
may  walk  over  him.  What  we  mean  is  quite 
different.  It  is  the  giving  up  one's  personal 
desire  for  the  general  justice  and  good  of  another 
or  others,  when  by  so  doing  a  greater  amount  of 
happiness  is  resultant  than  could  otherwise  be 
obtained.  Any  person  so  doing,  if  occasion  de- 
mands, attains,  himself,  the  supreme  bliss  of 
virtue  for  its  own  sake,  and  distributes  a  larger 
number  of  special  delights  among  his  kind,  than 
could  otherwise  be  experienced.  Even  more,  he 
often  averts  a  great  evil  which  might  result  from 
selfish  indulgence.    To  illustrate:  A  man  becomes 


OUE    EIGHT    AND    TITLE    IN    HAPPINESS  39 

rampant  with  a  special  desire— good,  perhaps 
ennobling  in  itself,  but  which  cannot  be  realized 
without  appalling  results  to  others.  He  may  long 
to  found  an  orphan  asylum,  or  endow  an  ''Old 
People's  Home."  By  a  little  sharp  practice  in 
business,  wrecking  many  homes  thereby,  he 
achieves  a  fortune  and  consummates  his  desire. 
Let  me  tell  you  it  will  be  long— long  before  he 
attains  the  absolute  happiness  of  "virtue  for  its 
own  sake"  after  such  shady  procedure.  A  woman 
loves  a  man  who  is  married.  She  too  perhaps  is 
married,  but  not  to  the  man  she  loves.  Now  this 
love  of  hers  may  be  sacred,  per  se— God  alone 
knows,  but  she  has  no  right  and  title  in  the  happi- 
ness which  it  brings.  Its  shadow  rests  on  the 
home  of  another.  Through  her  Karma  has  she 
arrived  at  her  present  condition  in  life,  and  in 
the  relativities  no  happiness  is  legitimately  hers, 
that  brings  injustice  into  the  lives  of  others.  Nor 
will  she  taste  of  the  absolute  bliss,  while  allowing 
special  unholy  delights  to  enamor  her,  to  the 
extent  that  others  concerned  are  affected.  This 
works  with  man  the  same. 

Ambition  is  a  good  thing,  and  fame,  and  the 
laurel  wreath  most  splendid,— in  honest  competi- 
tion worthy  of  a  God.  Contest  in  the  open,  where 
sly  tricks  are  unknown,  and  everything  is  fair 
and  square,  is  health  giving  and  stimulating. 
But  a  battle  won,  like  a  love,  through  unfair 
means,  inconsiderate  of  justice  and  the  rights  of 
others,  cuts  one  off  at  once  from  his  title  in  this 


40  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

absolute,  self-respecting  happiness,  which  comes 
to  the  virtuous  through  the  practice  of  virtue. 

•  •••••• 

Do  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that  a  special 
happiness  is  not  a  good  thing;  on  the  contrary, 
any  special  object  you  desire,  that  rightly  and 
justly  can  be  attained,  is  a  joy.  It  is  not  the 
absolute,  inherent  happiness  to  which  you  are 
entitled  through  sure  service  of  virtue  for  her  own 
sake;  but  a  special,  acquired  right— say  the  pas- 
sion of  love  for  a  person,  the  acquisition  of  wealth, 
the  privilege  of  travel,  the  attainment  of  fame  or 
honor;  these  come  by  fairly  are  often  sources  of 
supreme  delight,  accompanied,  however,  by  the 
dread  of  the  loss  of  them.  This  dread  acting  as 
a  shadow  to  foil  the  sun. 

The  happiness  of  self-sacrifice  has  no  such 
shadow,  and  being  an  inherent  right,  rather  than 
an  acquired  one,  it  is  the  more  stable  of  the  two. 
Nevertheless  the  acquired  right  to  a  special  hap- 
piness is  its  own  excuse  for  being,  and  is  to  be 
sought  with  all  one's  energy. 


WHAT  AND  WHO  IS  A  MASTER? 

The  characteristics  of  the  master  are  emphat- 
ically expressed.  Let  us  enumerate  some  of  them: 
First  and  pre-eminent  is  poise  or  balance.  The 
master  in  private  life  is  in  a  jungle  of  complexity 
—more  than  any  other  man,  because  his  power 
draws  all  kinds  of  humanity  to  him  and  tests  his 
mastership  at  once.  Now  mark  you,  if  he  can  ad- 
just to  such  a  state,  being  pulled  as  he  is  in  all 
directions,  by  a  medley  of  human  beings,  and  can 
keep  perfect  poise,  never  yielding  principle— at  the 
same  time  realizing  that  this  principle  of  equity 
applies  not  only  to  himself  but  to  these  others 
also— showing  no  unjust  bias  or  partiality,  using 
tact  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  not  only  tact  but 
sympathy  and  kindness,  he  has  one  of  the  great 
attributes  of  a  great  man  or  master.  To  test  him- 
self he  must  be  in  the  crowd,  among  his  kind,  fol- 
lowing his  ordinary  line  of  duty.  To  get  along 
alone  is  very  well,  but  to  work  out  and  realize  his 
supreme  power,  he  must  be  with  others,— those 
that  by  right  and  duty  he  has  associated  himself 
with.  A  master  avoids  ultra  things  as  far  as 
possible.    The  problem  of  everyday  life  is  hard 


42  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

enough  without  making  it  harder  by  devious  and 
unusual  ways.  The  master  avoids  eccentricity 
and  abnormality,  realizing  perfectly  that  there  is 
enough  that  is  strenuous  without  cultivating  it. 
If  he  wants  a  problem,  he  finds  it  anywhere,  in 
the  simplest  things. 

As  before  said,  the  master  has  many  character- 
istics, but  they  base  on  poise.  However  great  he 
otherwise  may  be,  or  how  much  of  a  genius,  with- 
out this  balance  mastership  is  impossible. 


POSING. 

You  read  pages  of  nonsense  and  gush,  but  what 
proof?  "New  Thought"  abounds  in  statements, 
assertions  and  positions  embellished  with  "dear 
one"  and  "sweetheart,"  but  proof— where  is  it? 
It  is  perfectly  proper  to  make  an  assertion,  and 
anv  thinker  can  ferret  out  its  self-evidence.  It 
is  perfectly  proper  to  present  data  which  any  one 
interested  can  verify;  but  when  a  lecture  is  given 
or  book  written  that  is  neither  self-evident  nor 
verifiable,  unless  the  writer  calls  it  dream  or 
belief,  it  is  balderdash.  I  may  be  as  assertive  as 
Cromwell  or  Swedenborg,  if  I  call  it  my  "belief" 
or  my  "fancy,"  but  should  I  present  this  stuff  for 
bald  fact  or  science,  I  deserve  ostracism  by  all 
sane,  progressive  minds.  There  are  some  things 
very  cheap  in  this  world,  and  posing  is  one  of 
them. 

A  philosopher  is  either  a  child  or  a  worker.  He 
is  never  a  creature  of  assertion.  If  he  gets  inspi- 
rations he  is  exceedingly  careful  about  presenting 
them,  unless  he  can  bring  verification ;  for  he  him- 
self can  scarcely  know  that  they  are  inspirations, 
till  they  have  been  proven. 


44  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Cranks  are  breeding  more  and  more  of  their 
kind,— lazy  humanity  opposed  to  giving  value  for 
value. 

Here  is  a  formula:  Psychic  impression  is  very 
real  when  it  equals  either  demonstration— fact,  or 
self-evidence;  otherwise  it  lies  over  against  possi- 
bility or  absurdity,  and  if  given  out,  should  be 
qualified  with  the  words  "may  be"  or  " can't  be." 

Psychic  impression  equals  fact— demonstration. 

Psychic  impression  equals  self -evidence. 

Psychic  impression  equals  fiction  or  dream. 


THE  THINGS  WE  HATE. 

If  you  watch  matters  of  fact,  you  will  notice 
that  people  are  very  apt  to  have  taken  from  them 
that  of  which  they  have  become  very  fond,  while 
the  things  and  jobs  they  hate,  stay  persistently 
by  them.  Why  is  this?  If  I  am  fond  of  a  thing, 
there  is  a  good  reason,  and  that  same  reason  is 
likely  to  make  another  fond  of  it  also;  complica- 
tions arise,  and  the  loved  thing,  person,  or  job 
is  often  lost.  We  hate  a  thing,— some  person  we 
have  to  live  with,  or  some  work  we  have  to  do, 
and  it  holds  us,  as  does  the  fly-paper  the  fly. 
We  "can't  seem  to  get  rid  of  it."  Allow  me  to 
contradict  you,  however,  you  can.  If  you  are  a 
teacher,  a  lawyer,  or  a  housekeeper  you  will  most 
likely  be  relieved  of  your  job,  when  you  learn  to 
love  it.  Become  extremely  interested,  so  much  so 
that  you  really  hate  to  quit,  and  some  fine  day  you 
will  find  yourself  down  and  out,  and  you  will  be 
sorry,  too.  Of  course  you  will  find  compensation 
and  be  glad  later,  perhaps,  but  you  will  grieve 
for  your  loved  and  lost,  nevertheless. 

Now  here  is  the  philosophy:  So  long  as  you 
complain  and  grumble  about  the  work  you  have 


46  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

to  do,  no  matter  whether  it  be  washing  dishes, 
teaching  school  or  trying  cases,  you  are  liable  to 
keep  on  doing  it.  But  when  you  find  the  element 
of  delight  that  is  most  surely  concealed  in  even 
the  meanest  work,  you  are  liable  to  find  yourself 
outside  it.  The  reason  philosophically  is,  that 
you  have  rounded  it  out,  completed  and  fulfilled 
it.  A  man  or  a  woman  might  persist  along  a  cer- 
tain line  a  hundred  years  and  not  find  its  un- 
doubted merit,  as  would  perhaps  another  person 
in  a  decade.  You  are  not  through  with  a  job 
when  you  hate  it,  and  it  being  at  the  same  time 
your  enemy,  is  not  through  with  you.  If  you  quit 
it  in  that  frame  of  mind,  you  will  continually 
revert  to  it  with  a  dissatisfied,  indignant  feeling 
that  will  embitter  your  whole  nature.  That  un- 
mastered  work  will  haunt  you  as  all  unmastered 
things  in  your  sphere  do>.  The  fact  that  you 
could  not  and  would  not  assimilate  that  which 
was  legitimately  your  work  by  the  law  of  cause 
and  effect  (the  cause  being  your  own  karma  by  the 
way)  is  like  repudiating  your  own  offspring.  If 
you  are  in  the  least  wise,  you  will  find,  if  you 
want  to  really  lose  that  hated  thing,  job  or  per- 
son, you  will  have  to  realize  it  even  to'  the  point 
of  love  for  it ;  otherwise  if  you  quit  with  it  appar- 
ently, you  will  be  obsessed  by  it  nevertheless. 
You  are  not  through  with  a  thing  till  it  receives 
its  due,  and  it  is  certainly  not  through  with  you. 
The  equation  has  not  been  struck  otherwise. 

Now  this  does  not  refer  to  jobs,  persons  or 
things   that  you  have  not  undertaken.     Should 


THE   THINGS   WE   HATE  47 

you  start  seriously  to  master  Euclid,  proceed  a 
way  in  it  and  then  give  it  up,  you  have  failed  in 
fulfilling  your  karma.  The  fact  that  you  started 
in  the  study  making  a  causation  out  of  it  and  a 
link  in  your  chain  of  experiences,  implies  that  it 
is  yours  indefinitely.  If,  however,  you  "  steer 
clear"  of  a  thing,  person,  study  or  job,  that  very 
steering  clear  in  itself  —  yes,  the  avoidance,  is 
again  a  link  in  the  chain  of  your  karma.  There- 
fore that  which  you  find  yourself  actually  en- 
gaged in,  proves,  because  you  are  so  engaged, 
that  you  have  come  to  it  normally  and  causally 
and  must  really  find  the  lovable  in  it  before  you 
can  pass  it  by. 

How  about  evil,  you  say,  under  this  philosophy? 

The  trouble  with  an  evil  thing,  person,  study 
or  job  (evil  in  itself  we  mean)  is  that  you  love  it 
too  much.  You  would  never  stay  a  moment  with 
evil,  if  it  had  not  a  diabolic  charm.  The  good  that 
lies  in  every  evil  you  have  found,  and  are  gloating 
over  and  exaggerating.  Now  by  this  love  you 
can  and  must  escape  this  very  evil  itself.  If  it 
be  an  abnormal  habit  like  lust,  or  lovei  of  drink, 
love  it  to  excess,  and  it  will  turn  and  rend  you 
either  by  disgust  or  by  death.  The  reaction  from 
it  will  be  either  your  cure  or  your  extinction. 
This  same  rule  applied  to  a  good  thing,  person, 
study  or  job  (good  in  itself  we  mean),  shows 
that  you  are,  when  the  love  seems  very  secure, 
liable  to  lose  it. 

So,   if  you   would   retain  a  treasured   person, 


48  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

study,  thing  or  job,  do  not  love  it  to  excess ;  and  if 
you  would  be  rid  of  a  loved  evil,  love  it  to  the 
point  of  satiety,  and  it  will  fly  from  you  and  set 
you  free. 


SYMPATHY 

To  be  "lost  in  another"  is  not  to  dispense  with 
one's  individuality.  On  the  contrary,  the  Ego. 
thus  seemingly  submerged,  is  in  reality  intensified. 
People  to  us  are  after  all  environment;  even  our 
nearest  and  dearest  are  outside  objects  with  which 
ourselves  as  subjects,  are  in  sympathy.  The  "I" 
or  Ego  of  man  is  only  such  because  of  an  environ- 
ment apart  from  it,  and  such  a  condition  as  that 
of  complete  merging  or  absorption  into  one's  sur- 
roundings, whether  person  or  otherwise,  is  impos- 
sible if  the  "I"  or  Ego  maintain  itself  as  such 
in  consciousness.  That  element  of  difference 
which  proves  that  the  "Me"  is  never  the  "not 
me"  is  the  very  field  of  consciousness  itself. 

Now  when  I  sympathize  with  my  friend,  I  am 
not  lost  or  absorbed  by  him;  on  the  contrary, 
he  is  a  sort  of  addendum  to  my  inner  world.  I 
have  annexed  him  and  set  him  up  as  an  idol  in 
my  shrine.  Looking  closer  I  find  that  I  had  him 
before  I  had  him;  that  is,  in  me  was  the  niche 
where  he  was  to  be  by  the  very  nature  of  myself; 
in  me  was  the  absolute  possibility  of  accurate 
response  to  one  such  as  he.    I  had  waited  for  him 


50  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

through  the  eternities.  He  and  he  only  could 
rouse  to  life  a  mertain  "Me"  that  must  otherwise 
have  slept.  Now  this  apparently  disinterested 
sympathy  which  I  feel  for  him  is  in  reality  sub- 
limely selfish,— nobly,  honorably  selfish.  It  is  not 
the  selfishness  that  cheats  others  through  my 
acquisitions;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  appropri- 
ating of  that  which  is  legitimately  mine,  —  as 
much  so  as  the  air  I  breathe  and  the  light  by 
which  I  see. 

This  friend  to  whom  I  seem  to  be  sacrificing, 
is  in  reality  rebuilding  or  readjusting  my  inner 
world;  overhanging  it  with  divine  skies;  painting 
it  with  ravishing  sunsets;  opening  entrancing 
vistas;  and  revealing  haunting  perspectives  that 
otherwise  would  have  been  unknown.  He  gives 
nothing  but  myself  to  myself;  that  is,  he  becomes 
the  mirror  by  which  I  see  the  principalities  just 
outside  the  narrow  confines  of  my  former  world. 

So  this  friend,  this  being  for  whom  my  sym- 
pathy is  unquenchable,  is  really  after  all  but  the 
reflector  of  my  previously  unrealized  self.  As  if 
I  had  lived  ages  upon  ages  without  viewing  my 
own  face,  when  suddenly  spying  it  in  a  still  pool, 
I  discover  the  color  of  my  eyes,  the  sheen  of  my 
hair,  the  curl  of  my  lips,  the  texture  of  my  skin. 
Though  I  never  see  myself  in  the  glassy  mirror 
of  the  lake  again,  I  have  added  to  my  inner  world 
the  vision  of  a  face  which  was  really  mine  before. 

Any  thing  or  person  that  can  extend  and  enlarge 
our  possessions  in  consciousness  (and  of  what 
value  whatever  are  they  to  us  as  individuals  out 


SYMPATHY  51 

of  consciousness),  with  that  person  or  thing  we 
sympathize.  I  think  I  must  revise  this  sentence. 
Anything  that  can  extend  or  enlarge  our  posses- 
sions pleasurably  in  consciousness,  calls  forth  our 
sympathy;  and  this  makes  it  quite  apparent 
that  anything  that  extends  our  inner  dominion, 
unpleasantly  arouses  antagonism  or  lack  of  sym- 
pathy. That  is,  if  I  look  into  a  pool  of  still 
water  and  discover  myself  ugly,  I  am  obliged  to 
carry  along  the  picture  and  hate  it  accordingly. 
So  whoever  or  whatever  jostles  into  conscious- 
ness some  despicable  part  of  me  that  previously 
lay  sleeping,  I  repudiate  it  then  and  there,  but  fail 
to  get  rid  of  it,  nevertheless. 

I  have  sympathy  for  those  only  that  stir  some 
latent  good  that  is  in  me  into  activity.  There  is 
an  old  saying:  "Hate  the  sin,  but  love  the  sin- 
ner." Even  those  pretentious  persons  who  claim 
to  love  indiscriminately  and  universally,  have  to 
rest  on  some  such  maxim,  for  they  dare  not  love 
the  sin.  In  their  repudiating  of  evil  I  have  proved, 
beyond  dispute,  that  they  do  not  love  everything. 
The  most  punctilious  saint  shows  a  fine  dainti- 
ness continually  as  to  what  he  likes  and  hates;  he 
is  constantly  picking  and  choosing,  and  though 
his  tongue  prates  of  universal  love,  his  acts  give 
the  lie  to  his  pretension,  and  show  him  to  be  self- 
deceived  if  not  in  the  fullest  sense  a  deceiver. 

Now  there  is  such  a  thing  as  universal  apprecia- 
tion, but  it  is  strictly  of  the  intellect  and  not  of 
the  heart.  "When  we  sav  love,  we  are  in  the  realm 
of  feeling,  where  all  humanity,  as  well  as  things 


52  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

inanimate,  are  selective  and  sympathetic.  Scien- 
tifically, I  am  as  interested  in  the  plague  of  small- 
pox as  in  the  scent  of  a  rose,  but  emotionally  I 
repudiate  one  and  gloat  over  the  other.  We  are 
not  intellectually  sympathetic;  we  are  intellec- 
tually curious,  just  and  impartial.  Emotionally, 
however,  from  the  aspect  of  loving  and  hating, 
our  sympathy  and  repugnance  run  rampant. 

He  who  preaches  a  doctrine  of  universal  love  in 
lieu  of  selective  sympathy,  is  no  true  student  of 
human  nature,  and  cannot  prove  his  point  by  any 
living  or  inanimate  example.  The  very  nature  of 
individualism  or  multiplicity  in  life,  is  repulsion 
and  attraction;  otherwise  there  could  be  no  con- 
sciousness as  we  know  it,  and  no  debate  upon  the 
subject  whatever.  If  a  man  is  sufficiently  identi- 
fied to  even  discuss  the  question,  he  is  in  the  whirl 
of  interchangeable  life  and  therefore  in  the  realm 
of  feeling,  which  means  love  and  hate.  He  him- 
self is  being  roused  continually,  as  he  evolves 
among  his  kind,  into  a  bigger  and  bigger  Ego  in 
consciousness — not  bigger  in  reality,  but  in  possi- 
bility of  given  experience.  In  other  words,  he 
is  repudiating  or  sympathizing  with  things  and 
persons  as  they  reveal  by  their  impacts  himself 
unto  himself. 

Can  he  control  his  sympathies,  you  ask?  Yes, 
to  an  extent.  That  is,  if  I  get  a  glimpse  of  my- 
self in  the  mirror,  and  fear  that  the  picture  will 
make  me  too  happy  or  too  vain,  I  can  refrain 
from  looking  again,  studying  and  revelling  in  its 
special  features.     So,  on  the  contrary,  if  I  find 


SYMPATHY  53 

ugliness,  I  need  not  curse  myself  continually  with 
the  vision,  but  may  turn  my  eyes  away.  Herein 
lies  the  power  of  will  or  freedom  over  sympathy 
and  its  opposite,  making  us  responsible  for  our 
loves  and  hates. 

An   important   question   arises   at   this   point: 
How  about  a  generalized  sympathy,  that  is,  sym- 
pathy for  a  group  or  a  race?     The  answer  is 
simple:    It  is  always  the  Gentile  as  against  the 
Jew,  or  vice  versa.    As  soon  as  you  combine  a 
number  into  unity,  you  again  have  a  One,— an  in- 
dividualized "not  you"   as  the  environment  or 
object  of  you  yourself— a  big  mirror,  but  a  re- 
flector nevertheless.    You  may  generalize  to  any 
extent,  except  that  of  universality.     Something 
must  be  polarized  to  that  other  something  called 
yourself,  lest  consciousness  be  impossible.    When 
you  love  the  world  in  toto  it  becomes  a  Unit— 
One;  you  yourself  are  another,    and    the   world 
upon  worlds  in  the  vault  above,  still  others.    By 
no  possible   arrangement   can  you   escape  "the 
many"  in  feeling  and  comprehension  and  be  con- 
scious of  them  at  all.    In  dealing  with  the  uni- 
versal, you  apparently  step  outside  it,  and  line  it 
up  against  you  like  balanced  poles  of  one  and  the 
same  thing. 

Sympathy  is  a  ''fellow  feeling,"  and  is  not' 
necessarily  pity,  though  it  often  takes  this  form. 
Our  feeling  of  compassion  for  some  one  is  never- 
theless a  self-revelation.  I  go  down  into  the 
valley  of  bereavement  with  my  friend,  and  draw 
from  it  a  strange  consolation,     In    sharing    his 


54  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

trouble  I  am  not  only  making  his  burden  lighter, 
but  mine  also,  which  some  day  I  shall  have  to 
carry  on  my  own  account.  My  possible  vale  of 
grief  has  been  revealed  to  me  through  his,  and 
when  my  time  of  suffering  comes  I  shall  escape 
the  shock  that  otherwise  I  must  feel.  "I  have 
been  there  before, ' '  I  shall  say  to  myself,  ' '  in  the 
misery  of  my  friend."  So  even  that  aspect  of 
sympathy  which  we  call  pity  has  its  somber 
advantages  and  is  not  repudiated. 

There  is  a  limit,  however,  to  our  power  of  pity. 
Beyond  that  limit  we  resent  such  emotion  and 
despise  the  person  who  is  unstintingly  drawing 
from  our  well  of  tears.  Justice  calls  a  halt,  and 
bids  us  ascend  from  the  vale  of  grief  and  bask  in 
the  sunlight  on  clear  heights.  Every  person  we 
meet  sympathetically,  in  some  special  way  needs 
us;  in  some  one  point  is  our  inferior,— less  strong 
than  we.  As  a  being  or  unit  he  may  be  our  supe- 
rior, but  if  he  makes  draughts  upon  our  pity  and 
love,  he  has  most  certainly  a  lack  that  we  can 
make  up  to  him  and  in  so  doing  the  rich  residue 
of  himself  becomes  a  reflector  to  our  inner  eyes, 
revealing  to  us  our  otherwise  unexplored  country. 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  "A  LIVING  COBPSE." 

The  Twentieth  Century  makes  emphatic  asser- 
tions, among  others  that  philosophy,  oratory  and 
poetry  are  dead.  Bacon,  Kant,  Spencer,  have 
rounded  out  philosophy,  there  is  nothing  more  on 
that  subject  to  be  submitted,— it  is  dead.  Demos- 
thenes, Cicero  and  Webster  have  completed  the 
circle  and  possibilities  in  oratory,— it  is  dead. 
Sappho,  Keats,  Poe,  have  fulfilled  the  mission  of 
poetry,— it  is  dead.  Now  having  disposed  of  these 
flowers  of  culture,  let  the  people  gird  up  and 
begin  "doing  things.' ' 

But  possibly  the  Twentieth  Century  is  hasty  in 
its  judgments.  That  which  seemed  to  have  died 
has  perhaps  not  been  critically  examined.  No 
expert  has  his  finger  on  the  pulse  of  the  "corpse." 
After  all  it  may  still  be  alive  and  dormant,  like 
the  hibernating  bear.  Something  is  stalking  the 
land,  hunting  game,  calling  itself  philosophy, 
poetry,  oratory,  and  the  world  laughs. 

This  travesty  has  no  sense  of  a  syllogism,  no 
respect  for  logic  and  fact,  yet  labels  itself  philos- 
ophy. It  has  no  roses  of  Pieria,  yet  calls  itself 
poetry.    It  has  no  persuasive  "golden  tongue," 


56  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

yet  presents  itself  as  oratory.  So  the  human 
shakes  his  head,  winks,  shrugs  nisi  shoulders,  and 
says,  "dead!  the  real  thing  is  dead!" 

The  old  masters  in  philosophy  since  the  Renais- 
sance, had  a  way  of  burying  themselves  to 
prevent  actual  interment.  A  thinker  can  find  a 
temporary  grave  in  words,  if  he  so  desire,  and  is 
sure  in  that  way  of  a  periodic  resurrection.  The 
shallow  mind  will  never  bother  about  him,  but 
the  miner  for  genius  and  thought  is  bound  to  dig 
him  out.  So  the  philosopher  perpetuates  himself 
by  hiding.  The  common,  everyday  man,  up  to 
his  ears  in  work,  is  most  surely  not  spending  his 
nights  over  the  abstruse  postulates  of  the  Critique 
of  Pure  Reason  or  the  metaphysical  "reactions" 
of  Hegel.  Those  men  and  their  thoughts,  as  far 
as  he  goes,  are  dead  and  returned  to  whence  they 
came.  Nor  will  he  moon  over  Sappho  and  Poe. 
How  can  he,  when  his  own  power  of  imagery  is 
sound  asleep.  Therefore,  the  poets  are  corpses, 
or  rather  wraiths.  Nor  will  he  read  the  speeches 
of  Patrick  Henry  or  Clay.  He  does  not  respond 
to  nerve  tickling  words  and  rounded  periods.  He 
is  "doing  things."     The  orator  is  extinct. 

Well  then,  if  the  blossom  is  dead  because  I  am 
blind  and  cannot  see  it,  if  melody  is  dead  because 
I  am  deaf  and  cannot  hear  it,  if  philosophy  is 
dead  because  I  am  thoughtless  and  cannot  grasp 
it,  then  I,  too,  must  be  on  the  verge  of  collapse. 

Two  reasons  are  the  cause  of  this  absurd  judg- 
ment on  the  Muse  by  the  Twentieth  Century: 
First,  the  age  is  pursuing  practical  ends,  and  its 


THE  FUNEEAL  OF  "A  LIVING  COKPSE"  57 

energy  is  spent  along  those  lines.  Second,  and 
growing  out  of  the  first,  the  age  is  asleep  in  cer- 
tain of  its  faculties.  It  is  not  a  question  of  the 
death  of  philosophy,  oratory,  poetry,  after  all;  on 
the  contrary,  the  case  is  reversed.  The  Twentieth 
Century  is  atrophied  in  regard  to  them.  It  has 
but  a  faint  capacity  of  response,  and  therefore 
asserts  that  these  arts  themselves  are  no  more. 
If  my  ears  are  stopped  and  I  cannot  hear  a  mus- 
ical rhapsody,  the  stark  corpse  is  not  the  body  of 
the  sound,  but  I  myself.  This  being  so,  the 
travesty  of  these  apparently  dead  wonders  has  its 
golden  opportunity  and  proceeds  to  use  it  for  all 
it  is  worth.  Everywhere  are  doctors  of  philos- 
ophy without  a  consistent  cult.  Everywhere  are 
poets  without  the  poem,  orators  without  oratory. 
There  are  books  upon  books,  in  this  Century, 
full  of  "pronouncements"  on  philosophy;  volumes 
weedy  with  assertions  that  are  not  self-evident; 
judgments  not  founded  on  discovered  facts,  and 
reasoning  without  logical  premise.  Therefore, 
the  world  wags  its  head,  puts  a  finger  to  its  brow, 
and  laughs.  There  is  verse  and  verse— yards  and 
yards  of  it— rhythmic,  clean-cut,  crystal  clear, 
but  like  a  glass  of  water:  You  look  through  it, 
and  searching,  find  a  blank.  Being  like  water,  it 
has  no  fire;  it  cannot  burn.  The  world  says  trash, 
and  laughs  again.  Well  groomed  men  stand  on 
platforms  and  "orate."  Their  coats  are  well  cut 
and  funereal.  Their  gestures  go  to  prove  their 
close  dealings  with  some  school  of  dramatic  ex- 
pression.     Their    voices    are    persuasive;    their 


58  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

throats  well  oiled.  Their  words  are  picked  and 
matched  like  gems  in  a  necklace.  They  make  no 
"holy  show"  of  themselves,  sawing  space  and 
tearing  their  hair.  They  are  altogether  well- 
mannered,  and  the  people  who  compose  their  audi- 
ences get  up  and  go  out,  one  after  another,  bored 
to  death.  Why?  Because  in  these  orators  there 
is  no  "do  or  die"  earnestness,  no  defiant  intent  to 
carry  the  people  en  masse  on  the  wings  of  their 
words.  Their  flying  machines  are  out  of  order. 
There  is  something  wrong  with  the  soaring  gear. 
If  they  themselves  are  incapable  of  rising,  how 
can  they  expect  to  lift  the  dead  weight  of  an 
irresponsive  crowd  along  with  them? 

Philosophy  has  a  strange  way  of  resurrecting 
itself  periodically,  just  as  an  individual  gets  up 
in  the  morning  after  a  good  night  of  sleep.  And 
the  world  has  a  peculiar  habit  of  recognizing  it, 
after  its  energy  has  been  withdrawn  from  some 
other  object. 

Absolute  inertness  is  unthinkable.  A  stick  of 
wood  burns  when  the  match  is  applied.  If  there 
was  no  real  need  of  philosophy  in  the  world,  it 
would  surely  die.  But,  as  a  cult  or  philosophic 
belief  is  simply  a  means  to  an  end — a  formula  or 
set  of  formulas  toward  smooth  living— a  guide  to 
the  line  of  least  resistance  in  the  path  men  travel, 
and  as  the  world  cannot  get  on  without  it,  the 
apparent  corpse  of  philosophy  is,  after  all,  only 
shamming,  and  mankind  is  deluding  itself  when 
it  pronounces  it  dead. 

Poetry  has  an  equally  uncanny  way  of  reap- 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  "A  LIVING  CORPSE"  59 

pearing  and  charming  earth  with  its  syren  voice,— 
possibly  in  the  distant  echo  of  the  steam  whistle, 
the  far,  ominous  cry  of  the  motor,  or  the  dull 
reverberation  of  the  whirring  wheel.  Poetry  is 
not  always  where  the  sun  sets,  or  the  rainbow 
vanishes.  The  Muse  sometimes  strokes  the  brow 
of  the  plough-boy  and  rides  alongside  the  man 
of  the  plains.  She  digs  with  the  miner,  and  flashes 
her  fires  on  the  laborer  at  the  forge.  She  breaks 
in  upon  the  monotony  of  a  practical  people,  and, 
lifting  her  wings,  flies  over  skyscrapers  and  shops 
by  the  side  of  the  aeronaut.  She  even  transforms 
the  skyscrapers  themselves  into  towers  and  tur- 
rets, and  makes  the  heart  of  a  great  mart  of  trade 
into  a  castellated  center  of  dreams.  Dead?  bah! 
Poetry  is  not  always  touching  wine  glasses.  She 
is  often  sweeping  a  floor.  Her  language  is  not 
that  of  platitude,  nor  her  tongue  that  of  syllables. 
I  can  very  well  imagine  the  men  of  the  present 
age,  those  who  make  history,  coming  together 
decently  to  attend  the  funeral  of  philosophy,  ora- 
tory and  poetry,  symbolized  by  a  composite 
corpse.  Flowers  are  brought,  a  few  tears  shed, 
a  grave  is  dug,  when  unexpectedly,  the  dead 
becoming  " quick;"  it  sits  up  in  its  coffin  and 
looks  about.  It  is  the  very  Muse  itself,  resem- 
bling all  those  who  have  followed  in  its  wake. 
There  is  a  Baconian  touch  upon  its  brow,  a  glance 
like  that  of  Spencer  in  its  eyes,  a  Kantian  pose  of 
its  head,  a  Sapphic  smile  on  its  lips,  a  Markham 
grip  of  the  hand,  and  as  it  salutes  the  new  century 


60  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

a  timbre  in  its  voice  like  the  great  tones  of  a  Lin- 
coln or  Demosthenes.    Dead!    The  Muse  dead! 

The  funeral  is  a  farce.  The  men  of  action  are 
transfixed.  The  travesty  on  "the  real  thing" 
slinks  to  cover.  Philosophy  stalks  the  land  and 
proceeds  to  practice  what  it  preaches ;  its  skeleton 
—fact  and  logic,  its  body— self-evidence.  Poetry 
burning  with  divine  fire  sings  as  she  sang  before 
on  the  Greek  islands  and  the  Scotch  heath.  Ora- 
tory discards  platitudes  and  proceeds  to  uplift 
and  win.  The  hustling  Twentieth  Century  finds 
to  its  astonishment  that  the  Muse  itself  is  suf- 
ficiently alive  to  "do  things,"  and  that  these  so- 
called  things  having  a  well-fixed  stamp  upon 
them,  are  potent  and  imperishable. 

Well,  then,  Mr.  Matter  of  Fact,  take  off  your 
funeral  gloves  and  dismiss  your  pallbearers.  The 
undertaker  must  wait  awhile  before  he  lays  out 
the  Muse  and  fills  in  the  grave. 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  CHAOS. 

Harmony,  the  end  sought  in  life,  can  only  be 
found  through  chaos.  This  sounds  paradoxical, 
to  say  the  least;  let  us  investigate  and  see. 

In  the  first  place  monotony  is  not  harmony; 
monotony  inevitably  brings  about  discord.  Har- 
mony is  only  found  through  an  eternal  readjust- 
ment of  things  —  a  continuous  re-relationship. 
Why?  Life  in  a  sense  is  motion,  and  motion  ne- 
cessitates constant  change.  Harmony  being  a  con- 
dition realized  in  life  pure  and  simple,  must  there- 
fore be  coincident  with  change.  Now  there  is  no 
change,  however  slight,  unless  it  has  in  it  some 
element  of  chaos.  Re-relationships  mean  a  break- 
ing up  to  unite  again  with  a  shade  of  difference, 
and  this  breaking  up  is  chaos.  Harmony,  while 
not  itself  chaos,  is  nevertheless  impossible  with- 
out it.  It  is  the  other  side  of  chaos,  and  when 
we  ignore  its  right  and  principle,  while  viewing 
the  phenomena  of  life,  we  have  our  eyes  fixed  on. 
monotony,  which  is  sure  to  breed  a  cataclysm. 
When  a  thing  becomes  so  static  that  it  seems 
monotonous,  it  is  bound  to  go  to  pieces,  as  far 
as  human  effort  is  concerned.  The  mind  by  its 
dynamic  quality  can  never  endure  an  interminable 
condition   or  thing,    even   the   divinest,    without 


62  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

making  an  attempt  to  alter  it,  and  this  attempt 
results  in  chaos  or  a  restoration  through  cyclonic 
readjustment  to  harmony  itself. 

The  eye  cannot  dwell  perpetually  upon  one  pic- 
ture, though,  it  be  the  face  of  an  archangel.  The 
ear  will  not  tolerate  a  continual  sound,  though  it 
be  the  trumpet  of  Gabriel.  The  mind  revolts  at  a 
continuity  without  its  element  of  difference,  and 
to  get  this  difference  it  resorts  to  chaos.  In  this 
very  chaos  itself  there  is  a  tragic  charm  and 
splendor  irrespective  of  the  new  order  of  things 
it  is  bound  to  establish. 

There  is  a  savage  joy  in  overturning— tearing 
down,  uprooting.  Nature  in  a  mild  way  is  con- 
stantly burning  up  and  rebuilding.  Man  himself 
grows  from  a  child  by  this  process;  he  is  a  per- 
petual wonder  of  chaos  and  cosmos.  From  an 
infant  he  becomes  a  youth,  all  new  as  far  as  his 
material  make-up  is  concerned;  and  then  a  man, 
new  again,  made  over  and  over,  his  face,  hands, 
hair,  eyes,  continually  taking  on  fresh  aspects, 
wrought  by  the  sculptor  Chaos  into*  a  harmonic 
unity  adapted  to  his  environment  and  demands. 
And  what  Nature  sometimes  takes  years  to  do,  in 
a  fit  of  hurry  and  enthusiasm  she  again  accom- 
plishes in  a  few  weeks.  She  rejuvenates  a  person 
in  fever  by  burning  him  to  a  skeleton  and  piling 
new  flesh  on  his  bones.  She  rearranges  a  land- 
scape by  destroying  its  topography,  thrusting  up 
baby  islands  to  the  surface  of  a  sea  and  leveling 
an  old  crag  into  a  promontory. 

There  is  affinity  in  the  soul  of  man  for  the 
terrific,  the  terrible;  the  reckless  joy  won  from 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  CHAOS  63 

the  "  spice  of  danger'  *  is  no  vain  thing.  The 
"poet"  who  sings  in  platitudes  and  swings  to  a 
pendulum  is,  after  cA\,  no  poet  whatever.  The 
primal  law  of  chaos  balanced  to  harmony  has 
never  been  revealed  to  him  by  the  Muse.  When 
the  storm  comes  and  Nature  rages,  he  hides  his 
head  under  his  undeveloped  plumes  and  shivers 
with  fright.  But  the  real  lover  of  life,  the  stormy 
petrel,  with  wings  long  and  pointed,  and  power 
of  sustained  flight  above  all  soaring  creatures, 
follows  the  phantom  ship  that  furnishes  him 
sustenance.  Across  the  immensities  he  goes  mid 
lightning,  thunder,  boiling  seas  and  scowling 
clouds,  finding  no  land  anywhere  for  his  tired  feet. 
On,  on,  beating  his  pointed  wings  in  teeth  of  the 
gale,  through  the  night,  through  the  day  he 
travels.  Chaos,  tearing  the  clouds  to  ribbons, 
gouging  out  great  caverns  in  the  waves,  riding 
on  the  bowsprit  of  the  ship,  snapping  the  masts, 
ripping  the  sails,  hissing  amid  the  yards,  running 
across  decks  in  balls  of  fire,  engulfing,  booming,— 
a  veritable  God  of  rapture  and  despair,— is  to  this 
wild  petrel  of  the  sea  of  life  a  Muse  of  majesty 
and  unquestioned  power. 

There  is  no  use  talking,  gentlemen,— you  who 
prate  of  unqualified  harmony  and  a  static  love,— 
you  cannot  sail  on  a  placid  sea  of  bliss  and  be  con- 
tent,—no,  no,  no.  Your  Poes  and  Dantes  must 
show  you  hell,  that  you  may  "balance  up"  to 
heaven.  Your  lotus  lands  and  your  drugs  are  the 
stagnant  things  of  earth;  they  have  the  odor  of 
the  tomb. 


64  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Chaos  is  evil,  deadly,  terrible,  but  without  it 
there  is  nothing  good;  in  fact  in  its  final  reaches 
it  is  itself  most  good.  Chaos  is  the  hag  that  car- 
ries an  angel  in  her  womb.  Chaos  is  darkness  with 
light  in  her  eyes.  Chaos  is  fury  that  hugs  prolific 
peace.  Chaos  is  destiny  that  hides  the  star  of 
love.    Chaos  is  the  wrath  of  God. 


THE  WILL  AND  RHYTHM. 

What  is  Will,  and  what  is  Rhythm?  A  man's 
will  detached  from  the  force  used  in  executing 
it,  I  define  as  desire— wish.  Rhythm  is  included 
in  the  law  of  action  and  reaction;  it  is  the  swing 
between  the  poles  of  being,  or  all  opposing  atti- 
tudes manifested  in  life.  From  these  definitions 
it  would  seem  that  will  and  rhythm  are  diamet- 
rically opposed  to  each  other,  the  former  standing 
for  freedom  and  the  latter  for  law— necessity- 
fate. 

As  I  have  before  argued,  a  principle  contains 
within  itself  its  opposite  or  tangent  tendency. 
For  instance,  the  so-called  centrifugal  force  is  but 
the  normal  result  of  the  persistent  centripetal. 
Centralization  overdone,  so  to  speak,  by  its  very 
nature  throws  off,  and  the  independents  thus  dis- 
carded follow  the  centrifugal  law,  which  is  noth- 
ing other  than  the  centripetal  reversed.  Very 
well,  then,  let  us  look  at  this  question  of  rhythm 
and  will  from  a  similar  point  of  view.  Will, 
desire,  or  wish,  seemingly  independent  of  the  law 
of  rhythm,  is  nevertheless  immersed  in  it.  Were 
it  not  for  the  rigidity  of  action  and  reaction,  there 
could  be  no  sense  of  freedom.    The  rebellion  of 


66  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

will  or  desire  to  the  strict  requirements  of  rhythm 
is  hinged  upon  this  very  strictness.  Rhythm,  like 
the  centripetal  force,  overdoes  itself,  and  the  inde- 
pendent will  or  freedom  is  born.  This  seems  far- 
fetched, but  let  us  see.  What  is  this  dualized 
force  with  its  poles  called  centripetal  and  cen- 
trifugal, but  another  name  for  action  and  reaction 
or  rhythm?  And  what  is  this  rhythm  in  toto  but 
another  name  for  necessity  and  freedom.  Action 
and  reaction  being  the  true  balance  between  the 
centralizing  and  repulsive  tendencies,  this  central- 
izing and  repelling  power,  by  its  very  nature  must 
of  necessity  be  polarized  to  another  element 
inherent  in  itself,  namely,  freedom— will.  The 
rigidity  of  the  law  necessitating  equality  between 
the  action  and  reaction  of  energy,  gives  that  same 
energy  its  loophole  of  escape,  or  an  element  of 
freedom.  This  we  call  free  will,  desire  or  wish, 
for  necessity  could  never  for  an  instant  be  with- 
out it.  Why?  If  all  actions  and  reactions  had 
no  meaning  or  reason  for  being  save  to  act  and 
react,  and  there  were  no  opposing  element  in  the 
nature  of  such  motion,  as  far  as  consciousness 
goes,  the  universe  would  become  motionless;  but 
as  will  pure  and  simple  is  not  energy  per  se,  and 
as  energy  per  se  is  but  the  stress.and  strain  in 
substance,  there  is  a  point— nodal  or  surdal— 
where  they  neutralize,  and  here  desire  or  will 
or  freedom— whatever  you  choose  to  call  it— has 
its  being  in  consciousness.  The  very  conditions 
of  action  and  reaction  could  not  be  without  this 


THE  WILL  AND  KHYTHM  67 

turning  point ;  and  here  the  unknowable  third  ele- 
ment appears,  which  we  call  Will. 

But  coming  down  from  the  metaphysical  aspect 
of  this  question  into  the  conscious  life  of  man,  I 
find  him  restricted  exteriorly  and  free  within; 
his  very  freedom  again  necessitating  his  restric- 
tions. Why?  Being  a  Unit  of  Force,  not  the 
Unit  of  Force,  there  are  others  like  himself  inter- 
nally free,  with  wills  and  aspirations  also.  Now 
that  the  many  may  be  free  in  this  great  sea  of 
" Oneness,"  each  having  the  same  right  of  liberty 
as  the  other,  exteriority  they  must  be  restricted; 
that  is  they  limit  each  other,  and  rhythm  and 
interaction  of  necessity  follow ;  not  that  only,  but 
desire  or  will  itself  by  its  very  nature  is  craving 
for  a  special,— some  thing  or  things  as  distinct 
from  other  thing  or  things.  Inwardly  I  may  in- 
dulge this  will  or  wish  to  my  heart's  content.  I 
am  free  to  desire  whatever  specials  I  choose,  but 
let  me  once  proceed  to  act  my  longing,  that  is, 
energize  this  wish  and  send  it  rampant  into  the 
realm  of  objectivity,  and  I  bring  up  against  limita- 
tions on  every  side.  Other  wills  as  inherently 
free  as  my  own  are  ranged  against  me.  I  find 
myself  in  a  sea  of  tides,  struggling  with  rhythm 
and  nearly  drowned  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  objectiv- 
ity. Things  toss  me  about  like  a  derelict— the 
actions  and  reactions  of  others  are  regulating  my 
own;  matter  in  all  forms  of  vibration  is  asserting 
its  rights;  wheels  are  revolving  within  wheels,  and 
paths  are  crossing  paths— the  boundless  freedom 
of  "the  me,"  pure  and  simple,  is  circumscribed  by 
some  other  "me"  interiorly  like  unto  myself. 


68  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Yet  without  this  restriction  brought  about  by 
external  objects,  there  could  be  no  interior  free- 
dom to  desire  anything  at  all;  and  without  this 
interior  freedom  to  desire  a  thing,  there  could  be 
no  objects  whatever  in  our  conscious  universe. 


LIKE  THE  SHIELD  OF  ACHILLES. 

"He  gnashed  his  teeth, 
"Fire  glimmered  in  his  eyes, 
"Anguish  intolerable  wrung  his  heart, 
"While  he  put  on  his  glorious  arms— 

"The  labor  of  a  God. 
"His  broad  shield  uplifted  last,  luminous  as  the 

moon, 
"Such  as  to  mariners  a  fire  appears  kindled  by 

shepherds     - 
"On  the  distant  top  of  some  lone  hill. 
"Such,  from  Achilles'  burning  shield  divine, 
"A  lustre  struck  the  skies.'' 
This  armor  was  forged  by  Vulcan,  for  the  god- 
dess Thetis  to  present  to  her  son  Achilles. 
"He  fashioned  first  a  shield  massy  and  broad, 
"Toiling  with  skill  divine. 

*  *  There  he  described  the  earth,  the  heaven,  the  sea, 
"The  sun  that  rests  not,  and  the  moon  full-orbed. 
1  i  There  also  all  the  stars  that  round  about 
"As  with  a  radiant  frontlet  bind  the  skies; 
"The  Pleiads  and  the  Hyads,  and  the  might  of 

huge  Orion; 
"There  discord  raged,  there  Tumult 
"And  the  force  of  ruthless  Destiny. 


70  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

' '  There  too  he  formed  the  likeness  of  a  field 

"  Crowded  with  corn, 
"In  which  the  reapers  toiled, 
"Each  with  a  sharp-toothed  sickle  in  his  hand: 
"There  also,  amid  a  pleasant  grove 
"A  pasture  formed,  spacious 
"And  sprinkled  o'er  with  silver  sheep. 
"To  these  the  glorious  artist  added  next 
"A  labyrinth  of  dance,  such  as  of  old 
"In  Crete's  broad  island, 
"Doedalus  composed 
"For  bright-haired  Ariadne; 
"Last,  with  the  might  of  Ocean's  boundless  flood, 
"He  filled  the  border  of  the  wondrous  shield; 
"The  armor  finished,   bearing  in  his  hand  the 

whole 
"He  set  it  down  at  Thetis'  feet. 
"She  like  a  falcon  from  the  snowy  top 
"Stooped  of  Olympus,  bearing  to  the  earth 
"The  dazzling  wonder  fresh  from  Vulcan's  hand. 
"Now  rose  the  moon  in  saffron  vest  attired 
' '  From  Ocean,  with  new  day  for  gods  and  men, 
"When  Thetis  at  the  fleet  of  Greece  arrived, 

"Bearing  that  gift  divine!" 

The  great  in  philosophy,— the  master,  he  who 
knows  himself  and  life,  is  protected  by  a  shield 
that  reflects  all  earth  and  sky  as  did  that  of 
Achilles.  His  armour  is  forged  by  Vulcan  in  the 
deeps  of  experience,  and  bearing  it  before  him,  he 
is  invincible  and  secure.  Unless  his  mother,— the 
Thetis,  in  whose  womb  he  slept,  places  this  pan- 
oply at  his  feet,  he  is  helpless  in  waging  war  on 


LIKE  THE  SHIELD  OF  ACHILLES  71 

his  enemy;  but  once  attired,  and  his  shield,— "the 
labor  of  a  God",  uplifted,  "he  gnashes  his  teeth, 
Fire  glimmers  in  his  eyes, ' '  and  ' '  though  anguish 
intolerable  wrings  his  heart,"  the  battle  is  his 
and  his  alone. 

•  •••••• 

It  is  a  fact  that  no  man  dare  face  the  dangers 
of  life  without  some  form  of  protection.  He  is 
on  the  defensive  and  he  knows  it.  Even  the  sav- 
age has  his  crude  and  ghostly  religion  as  a  barrier 
between  himself  and  the  onslaughts  of  the  world. 
His  shield  may  be  covered  with  animal  hides 
"seven  deep,"  but  it  protects  him  from  head  to 
foot  when  pushing  his  way  through  the  labyrinth 
of  life.  True,  it  does  not  reflect  the  sun  from  its 
bosses,  nor  the  pale  glamour  of  the  moon,  nor  is 
there  a  pictured  ocean  at  its  rim.  Wheels  within 
wheels,  perhaps  are  wanting,  but  it  is  "seven 
deep"  with  hides,  and  serves  the  purpose  de- 
manded by  his  childish  soul. 

Again  there  is  the  shield  of  the  common  man, 
with  the  ritual  of  his  church  or  order  engraved 
upon  it,— an  amulet  strong  enough  to  ward  off 
any  enemy  deeming  him  worthy  of  attack.  All 
fighters  have  shields ;  only  the  inherently  protected 
go  outwardly  unprotected. 

To  dare  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  is  to 
defy  every  thing  or  person  with  a  will  differently 
disposed  from  your  own.  It  is  Troy  challenging 
Greece,  and  Greece  challenging  Troy.  The  instant 
you  start  to  blaze  your  own  trail,  north,  south,  east 
or  west,  in  the  journey  of  life,  death  stalks  beside 
you.    Instinctively  you  shield  yourself,  and  push 


72  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

on.  A  shaft  strikes  here  and  is  warded  off, 
another  there  and  rebounds.  From  head  to  foot 
are  you  covering  up  your  naked  self,  lest  a  vital 
part  be  hit.  Of  course  there  are  sheep!  Follow- 
ers are  on  all  the  grazing  places  of  earth,  and 
though  they  are  without  panoply,  the  shepherd 
who  fights  their  battles  and  does  their  thinking 
is  armed  from  head  to  foot. 

All  cults  that  have  made  their  way,  and  have 
not  gone  down  before  the  world's  onslaughts,  have 
had  masters  protected  by  shields  and  helmets  cun- 
ningly fashioned,  more  or  less  strong,  and  now  and 
then  invincible.  If  there  is  anywhere  a  weak  spot 
in  the  armor  of  a  leader  of  a  religion  or  philos- 
ophy, the  opposing  world  is  bound  to  find  it,  and 
only  that  system  stands  the  onslaught  of  centuries 
whose  prophet  carries  before  him  an  invulnerable 
shield.  A  little  teacher  or  preacher  comes  and 
goes  with  a  blare  of  trumpet  and  glitter  of  steel; 
he  rushes  forth  to  battle  with  conventional  life 
followed  by  a  "pack  of  sheep";  "his  massy 
shield  o'ershadowing  him  whole,  Ten  circles  bright 
of  brass  around  its  field."  But  later  another 
teacher  or  preacher  carrying  another  shield  with 
ten  more  circles  of  brass,  crushes  him  in  the  dust, 
and  the  world  encores  and  laughs.  The  question 
is  perfectly  self-settling.  If  a  man  cannot  stand, 
he  can  not,  that  is  all.  His  shield  may  ward  off 
destruction  for  a  time,  but  he  finds  later  that  death 
was  only  sparring.  The  fatal  blow  is  bound  to  be 
struck,  and  his  faith  and  himself  overthrown.  He 
has  had  his  little  day.  He  has  gone  into  history 
as  a  corpse.    He  is  not  immortal. 


LIKE  THE  SHIELD  OF  ACHILLES  73 

But  a  shield  like  that  of  Achilles,  forged  by  a 
God— ''luminous  as  the  moon",  is  the  matchless 
wonder  carried  by  him,  master  or  man,  who  can 
blaze  his  own  trail,  and  maintain  his  own  position 
as  against  the  world.  If  his  mother  Thetis 
descends  from  Olympus  and  pleads  with  Vulcan  to 
settle  ''his  ponderous  anvil  on  the  block— one 
hand  with  his  huge  hammer  filled,  one  with  the 
tongs,"  a  shield  with  ''five  strong  folds"  will  be 
forged,  as  invincible  as  destiny.  All  splendors  of 
earth,  sea  and  sky  will  be  reflected  from  its  mass- 
ive front— flashing  defiance  to  the  very  objects 
which  it  dares  to  mirror. 

To  huge  Orion  in  the  sky,  another  "huge  Orion" 
on  Achilles'  shield  sends  challenge. 

To  the  sun  in  heaven  "that  rests  not"  another 
restless  sun  flings  its  resplendent  rays. 

To  the  "moon  full-orbed"  another  moon  as  lum- 
inous, stares  daringly. 

To  the  stars  above,— "The  Pleiads  and  the  Hy- 
ads",  the  stars  upon  this  deep  sheen  of  moving 
panoply  flaunt  greeting. 

To  Discord,  Tumult,  ruthless  Destiny,  the 
raging  furies  of  Achilles'  shield  throw  down  the 
gauntlet. 

And  to  the  fields  of  whispering  corn  and  grow- 
ing grain  on  earth's  warm  stretches,  the  summer 
glories  on  the  shield's  perspectives  wave  their 
greeting. 

And  to  the  groves  and  pastures  "sprinkled  with 
silver  sheep,"  the  living,  moving  wonders  of  Vul- 
can's masterpiece  give  answer. 

Even  bright-haired  Ariadne  on  Achilles'  shield 


74  STBAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

is  dancing  as  once  aforetime  "In  Crete's  broad 
island"  she  danced  and  dallied.  And  on  it  too 
the  ocean  falls  and  rises,  as  boundless  as  the 
mighty  flood  on  earth's  great  bosom. 

•  •••••• 

He  who  faces  the  whole  world  of  objectivity  and 
dares  it,  must  be  himself  the  whole  world.  Greek 
meets  Greek.  Any  honest  amior  is  better  than 
none,  when  man  goes  forth  to  fight  the  battle  of 
life;  but  that  which  is  forged  by  a  God  is  beyond 
compare. 

•  •••••• 

How  shall  I  know,  you  ask,  whether  I  have 
donned  this  indestructible  panoply  or  not?  And 
I  answer,  by  watching  those  who  fall  and  those 
who  stand.  Look  into  common  life  and  common 
things  and  learn  a  lesson.  Is  there  any  one  more 
absurd  than  he  who  talks  with  giant  superlatives 
about  the  wonders  of  mathematics,  and  like 
Hobbes,  tries  to  square  the  circle,  when  a  simple 
problem  in  arithmetic  or  algebra  is  beyond  his 
power  of  solving?  Who  more  ridiculous  than  he 
who  prates  of  chemistry  and  never  investigates  its 
synthetic  combinations?  Who  more  laughable 
than  the  man  that  fools  himself,  in  regard  to  biol- 
ogy or  physiology  or  geology  or  astronomy  or 
psychology— having  shut  his  mind  to  all  discov- 
ery, resting  complacently  on  the  data  of  the  past. 
A  teacher  arises  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
crowd  that  surrounds  him,  and  rants  in  "high- 
falutin"  phrases  and  platitudes  without  self- 
evidence  ;  drives  home  logic,  based  on  a  ridiculous 
hypothesis,  or  a  self-asserted  premise  built  from 


LIKE  THE  SHIELD  OF  ACHILLES  75 

no  known  fact.  He  is  cased  in  an  armor,  and 
carries  a  shield  "seven  hides  deep."  His  voice 
is  loud  and  far  reaching,  his  foxy  eyes  glance  side- 
wise,  he  shows  his  teeth,  he  strikes  at  hidden  ene- 
mies, lurking  in  mid-heaven— demons  of  air  and 
sunbeam;  he  piles  climax  upon  climax,  as  he  soars 
on  the  wings  of  speech;  he  manipulates  words  so 
shrewdly  that  he  seems  to  his  appalled  disciples 
the  very  God.  His  tin  helmet  glitters,  his  "pol- 
ished greaves"  flash,  his  corslet  throws  fire.  His 
great  sword  slung  from  his  shoulder  in  full  view, 
menaces  and  frightens.  Altogether  this  teacher, 
with  head  and  shoulders  above  the  crowd,  seems 
invincible;  but  let  some  one,  no  matter  how  hum- 
ble, protected  by  a  shield  like  that  of  Achilles,  and 
armored  by  Vulcan,  challenge  him,  dare  him  to 
enter  the  arena  where  dialectic  wrangles  are  toler- 
ated and  truth  brought  to  light,  and  he  plays  the 
role  of  martyr  at  once,  and  "dies  the  death." 
Why?  Because  the  panoply  of  an  Achilles  is 
bright  and  on  the  shield  all  things  in  heaven  above 
and  earth  below  are  as  they  are. 

It  is  a  bold  revelation.  The  shield  is  a  mirror 
that  reflects  the  truth,  not  pleasant  always,  but 
nevertheless  truth.  It  stands  the  test  of  the  sharp- 
est scrutiny  and  closest  investigation.  Micro- 
scopic and  telescopic  eyes  but  bring  to  clearer  view 
its  startling  accuracies.  He  who  dares  to  gird  on 
such  armor  dares  to  face  fact.  It  is  not  learning 
that  entitles  one  to  it,  it  is  freedom  from  prejudice 
and  a  willingness  to  be  a  peer  of  the  universe  as 
it  is,  in  all  its  myriad  specializations  and  moods. 
He  who  lifts  up  a  shield  like  that  of  Achilles  is 


76  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

without  delusions,  but  has  the  open  mind.  He  is 
the  fighter,  cutting  his  way  through  the  resisting 
world  by  sheer  force  of  truth.  The  gods  are  on 
his  side— God.  He  may  fall  a  thousand  times,  but 
no  power  can  hold  him  down.  His  flashing  shield 
mocks  and  blinds  his  enemy  as  does  the  full-orbed 
sun;  its  ocean  waves  of  light  engulf  and  disturb 
him;  "The  Pleiads  and  the  Hyads  and  the 
might  of  huge  Orion  burn  into  his  very  soul,— its 
Discord,  Tumult,  ruthless  Destiny  make  havoc  of 
his  life.  The  armor  of  the  Gods  has  laid  him 
low! 


WEEDS. 

My  neighbor  hails  me  and  demands  that  I  cut 
down  my  poplar  trees— anger  in  his  eye,  scorn  on 
his  lip.  Why?  "Because  they  shed  their  leaves." 
Have  you  ever  been  to  France,  I  ask,  or  Italy? 
"No."  "Well,  let  me  alone  then,  for  what  is 
Lombardy  without  its  poplars,  or  what  am  I?" 

This  question  of  taste  produces  various  effects, 
some  good  others  bad.  If  all  people  admired 
the  same  type,  all  men's  wives  would  look 
alike,  all  husbands  would  be  counterparts,  there 
would  be  few  marriages  by  the  way,  houses  would 
be  uniform,  trees  all  of  one  species,  cats  all  of  one 
stripe.  It  is  well  then  that  men  disagree  in  mat- 
ters of  taste,  for  the  awful  uniformity  of  material 
things  bred  from  unanimous  opinions  in  taste, 
would  level  the  human  mind  to  inane  monotony— 
a  sea  without  a  wave,  a  desert  without  a  hill.  If 
I  like  sweet  fennel  and  my  neighbor  prefers  cat- 
tails, the  stranger  who  passes,  caring  neither  for 
my  neighbor  nor  myself,  is  nevertheless  charmed. 
But  when  a  whole  block  of  neighbors  becomes 
enamored  of  one  idea,  and  that  idea  is  a  shaved 
palm  tree,  I  pity  the  stranger.  To  his  untutored 
eye  it  would  seem  that  a  trade's  union  painter  had 


78  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 


varnished  the  whole  lot  of  them,  and  if  perchance 
he  be  an  artist,  I  pity  him  yet  more. 

According  to  a  great  philosopher  of  the  present 
era,  humanity  is  forever  seeking  a  moving 
equilibrium,  whatever  that  may  mean,  and  if  this 
be  so,  it  is  also  true  that  in  seeking  they  contin- 
ually bound  back  and  forth  between  extremes. 
Through  this  tireless  polarity  we  get  diversity  in 
taste,  and  from  the  tout  ensemble  of  variety 
beauty  shows  her  eyes.  If,  however,  at  any  time 
nature's  instinct  to  versatility  is  disturbed  and 
the  matter  of  uniformity  is  taken  in  hand  by  man, 
we  get  results  to  be  sure,  but  such  results!  Gar- 
dens with  flower-beds  modeled  on  five-pointed 
stars,  houses  with  wings  exactly  alike,  chimney 
pots  of  the  same  height,  gargoyles  with  the  iden- 
tical grin,  wall  paper  repeating  its  pattern  till 
the  sick  are  made  insane,  carpets  ditto,  streets 
straight,  hills  leveled,  valleys  raised,  ditches 
boxed,  weeds  annihilated  —  but,  my  subject  is 
weeds. 

The  Century  Dictionary  defines  weeds  as  those 
herbaceous  plants  which  are  useless  and  without 
beauty  or  especially  those  which  are  troublesome. 
It  further  says  that  the  application  of  this  general 
term  is  relative.  Handsome  plants,  such  as  the 
oxeye  daisy,  cornflower,  and  the  purple  cowwheat, 
are  weeds  to  the  agriculturist,  flowers  to  the 
esthetic.  The  exotics  from  cool  countries  are 
sometimes  weeds  in  the  tropics. 

So  then  I  will  not  allow  my  neighbor  to  con- 
demn me  for  cultivating  weeds,  so  long  as  I  raise 
them  on  my  own  side  of  the  fence.    My  eye  simply 


< 


WEEDS  79 

gloats  on  the  cheap,  sun-dreading  morning-glory, 
a  climber  so  beautifully  wicked  that  it  fears  the 
full  light  of  day,  except  perhaps  in  Egypt,  where 
it  dares  the  very  noon  itself.  I  gloat  on  its  deli- 
cate diabolism,  its  deuced  purple  and  white 
determination  to  strangle  some  useful  plant,  and 
have  its  early  morning  passions  and  presump- 
tions in  spite  of  the  scowl  next  door.  I  gloat  over 
my  straggling  democratic  nasturtiums  that  claim 
prior  right  to  all  lands  entailed  or  unentailed, 
wherever  they  can  by  squatting  get  a  foot-hold, 
staying  for  five  years  or  a  hundred,  proving 
possession  in  their  case  to  be  nine  points  of  the 
law. 

I  admire  the  courage  of  weeds,  their  radical 
methods,  their  brass,  nor  do  they  bluff  and  blow 
without  cause,— a  veritable  sprawl  of  beauty,— 
shocking  to  conservative  plants,  an  almost  shame- 
less display  of  enticements  that  establish  effects 
in  "local  color,"  "bright  patches,"  etc.,  being 
amorously  sought  for  by  artists  the  world  wide. 

My  neighbor  objects  to  the  falling  of  my  poplar 
leaves,  and  denounces  them  as  litter.  True,  they 
are  a  bit  untidy,  and  lack  the  beauty  of  New  Eng- 
land death  in  October  when  the  frost  has  painted  it 
until  it  becomes  an  illusion  and  seems  like  golden 
russet  life.  Between  two  evils  which  shall  I 
choose?  A  cleanly  disposed  tree  that  deliberately 
changes  its  clothes  once  a  year  and  airs  itself 
naked  in  the  meantime,  or  the  evil  of  no  magnifi- 
cent stately  poplar  at  all,  a  monotonous  barren- 
ness, a  glare,  a  cement  sidewalk,  and  a  pair  of 
dark  goggles  for  my  eyes.    Which  evil?    Why  the 


80  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

waving  stately  evil  of  my  trees,  dead  leaves  and 
all,  with  the  condemnation  of  those  sun-shriveled 
neat  neighbors  of  mine  thrown  in. 

All  weeds  are  not  vegetable;  some  are  human. 
They  use  us,  of  course— yes,  even  more,  they  make 
use  of  us,  but  how  they  blossom!  A  weedless 
world  would  be  unnatural.  If  I  may  but  serve 
as  a  prop  for  some  morning-glory  weed  of  a 
human,  who  greets  the  dawn  with  a  smile,  and 
defies  heaven's  blue  with  its  esthetic  tints,  I  may 
consider  that  I  have  a  calling  and  election  worthy 
of  a  prop  at  least. 


WASTE  PLACES. 

How  would  it  be,  I  wonder,  if  the  ' '  civil  author- 
ities" the  country  over  should  take  it  into  their 
heads  to  seek  out  the  vilest,  most  disreputable 
places  and  transform  them  into  veritable  heavens. 
How  again  if  every  householder  should  find  the 
plague  spot  in  his  house  or  yard  and  make  it  a 
thing  of  beauty.  "The  desert  were  a  paradise 
if— the  rose  might  blossom  there."  The  human 
race  inclines  greatly  to  improve  the  improved  and 
to  make  more  vile  the  thing  already  smirched. 
Like  the  kitchen-middens  of  prehistoric  ages,  a 
modern  dumping  pile  is  cumulative,  an  ash  heap 
heterogeneous,  and  an  alley  promiscuous,  all  inten- 
sifying their  characteristics  with  the  passage  of 
time. 

Reformers  there  are  and  always  have  been, 
overthrowing  kings,  unseating  senators,  reorgan- 
izing communities,  and  improving  religion,  but 
where  is  he  who  is  destined  to  dethrone  the  mag- 
nate squalor,  and  denude  him  of  his  rags.  Suppose 
a  people,  say  those  of  the  United  States,  rose  sim- 
ultaneously with  this  idea,  let  us  see  how  it  would 
work.  The  "authorities"  of  each,  finding  their 
damnation  spot  some  pest-breeding,  germ-develop- 
ing, bad-smelling  locality,  would  proceed  to  turn 


82  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

it  into  a  miniature  paradise,  its  very  rottenness 
aiding  them  in  the  attempt,  a  kiosk  or  a  classic 
structure  (a  place  for  lilies  and  roses).  While 
the  typical  city  is  astonishing  itself,  the  country 
also  is  repairing  its  apparently  irreparable  spots 
in  its  highways.  Its  most  dilapidated  bridge  is 
exchanged  for  something  ornate,  and  its  pregnant 
beauties  suffered  to  be  born.  Simultaneously  with 
this  good  work  the  typical  householder  discovers 
that  while  his  front  yard  boasts  of  a  stereotyped 
beauty  like  that  of  his  neighbor,  having1  the  trim- 
med lawn,  the  trimmed  hedges  and  the  trimmed 
trees,  his  can-adorned  backyard  is  potential  with 
an  original  beauty  about  which  his  neighbor  has 
no  concern.  Why  not  make  a  mound  of  the  old 
rags,  old  bottles  and  old  shoes,  cover  it  with  dirt 
and  plant  vines  there,  sowing  it  thick  with  seeds? 
Why  not,  in  this  rubbish-strewn  back  yard,  so  mix 
its  practical  aspect  with  its  natural  intent  that 
green  beauty  and  floral  voluptuousness  shall  inter- 
twine and  "straggle  and  draggle"  their  unified 
charm  about  in  such  free  abandon  that  the  house- 
holder shall  find  himself  eating,  smoking  and 
reading  there  at  all  hours,  lured  more  and  more 
by  its  consummate  fascination.  Now,  suppose 
that  the  well  enough,  the  commonplace  decencies 
that  are  neither  beautiful  nor  ugly  be  let  severely 
alone,  and  only  the  real  vileness  of  the  city,  coun- 
try and  household  be  simultaneously  attacked, 
what  would  be  the  result  after  the  passage  of  a 
few  months? 

Not  a  house  in  the  land  would  have  a  closet  con- 
taining a  hidden  corruption  compared  with  which 


WASTE  PLACES  83 

the  traditional  skeleton  is  white  and  clean,  not  a 
city  with  a  sink  of  material  iniquity,  not  an  in- 
habited country  spot  made  dangerous  by  unright- 
eous neglect.  Suppose  that  the  general  uprising 
causing  an  almost  fanatic  attack  on  these  physical 
evils  should  be  accompanied  by  an  equally  insane 
desire  for  light,  so  that  the  darkest  and  most  loath- 
some places  should  become  as  day,  what  then? 
Blind  alleys  would  be  illuminated  from  end  to  end, 
villainous  resorts  would  glare  with  electric  eyes, 
treacherous  pitfalls  would  yawn  beneath  arc 
lamps,  every  cellar  and  every  closet  in  every  house 
would  have  a  possibility  of  sudden  illumination. 

Who  can  deny  that  if  such  a  peculiar  idea  were 
to  suddenly  strike  the  united  population  of  some 
favored  land,  say,  for  instance,  America,  that  the 
renovating  instinct  of  making  the  last  first,  and 
the  worst  best,  in  the  material  sense,  might  not 
revolutionize  the  very  race  mind  where  the  idea 
originated,  inciting  humanity  to  seek  out  its  un- 
seen waste  places,  its  interior  loathsomeness  of 
which  the  extreme  is  symbolic,  determining  to 
transform  its  most  hideous  propensities  into  ten- 
dencies toward  beauty  supreme.  This  indeed 
would  not  alone  be  a  transformation  of  locality, 
but  one  of  energy  also,  turning  hell  into  heaven, 
death  to  life. 


THE  WILD  BEAST. 

He  climbs  the  highlands  of  old  Turkestan, 

And  mid  its  ramparts  dares  the  world  and  man; 

"Where    trailing    cedars    and    dwarfed    willows 

thrive- 
Cold,  shivering,  hunted,  he  is  yet  alive. 
Along  the  Hindoo  Koosh  he  stalks  and  glides, 
And  beings  human,  by  his  stealth,  derides. 
He  sniffs  the  salt  air  blown  cross  Persian  skies, 
And  laps  the  water  where  the  rivers  rise. 
Where  roll  and  rumble  the  Blue  Nile  and  White 
He  wanders  boldly  through  the  day  and  night, 
And  on  the  edge  of  Africa  he  stares 
Back  at  the  land  where  Freedom  lives  and  dares. 

0  blessedness  of  clean  Sahara  air! 

O  purity  of  river  springs  and  height! 
Great  wonder  of  the  land  of  larches,  where 

The  juniper  and  cedar  seek  the  light; 
Hot  beauty  of  the  haunts  of  the  gazelle! 

O'er  Arab  desert,  where  the  antelope 
Has  wandered  far,  and  felt  the  fawning  spell 

Of  magic  happiness  and  peace  and  hope; 
Even  where  the  poppy,  saffron,  madder,  thrive,— 

And  almond  trees  sigh  softly  as  they  grow; 
The  leopard  and  the  lion,  fierce,  alive, 

Unrivaled,  mid  the  sweating  jungles  go. 


THE  WILD  BEAST  85 

Alas  wild  beast!  confined  within  his  cage, 

For  scent  of  free,  wide  air  he'll  long  and  fret. 
No  man  can  break  his  will,  nor  quell  his  rage, 

The  pine  and  almond  he  remembers  yet. 
The  lichens,  larches,  cedars  sadly  call, 

And  arctic  splendors  beckon  him  and  gleam; 
The  shining  sands,  grim  heights— ah!  all 

He  lost  in  life,  he  lives  again  in  dream. 

That  the  wild  beast  is  not  tame  is  evident, 
but— what  is  a  wild  beast,  and  what  a  tame  one? 

A  wild  beast  is  defined  as  having  many  charac- 
teristics; he  is  bold,  brave,  self-willed,  and  lives 
in  "a  state  of  nature"— whatever  that  may  mean. 
If  he  is  "Nature's  own  product,"  she  is  certainly 
responsible  for  him,  and  judging  by  the  flashing 
eye,  superb  teeth  and  glossy  coat  of  a  wild  beast, 
she  seems  to  be  a  pretty  good  mother.  If,  how- 
ever, the  wild  beast  is  as  self-willed  as  he  is  said 
to  be,  how  does  it  happen  that  he  is  everlastingly 
tied  to  his  mother  Nature's  apron  strings?  Pos- 
sibly Nature  does  the  most  for  those  of  her  crea- 
tures who  ' '  shift  for  themselves ; ' '  their  very  will- 
ful and  free-lance  tendencies  making  them  true  to 
her  after  all;  for  are  not  freedom,  boldness  and 
independence  attributes  of  Nature's  great  soul? 
And  are  not  tame  beasts  simply  travesties  on  her 
ultimate  self?  This  being  so,  she  lets  their  teeth  de- 
cay, their  claws  grow  dull,  their  coats  become 
rusty,  their  eyes  dim;  in  fact,  they  are  mangy- 
servile,  and  lean  for  support  on  their  captors  and 
subduers.  Alas!  Nature  repudiates  them,  and  in 
"a  state  of  culture"— spiritless,  their  glory  de- 


86  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

parted,  they  degenerate  into  useful  creatures,  pets 
and  slaves. 

I  am  not  altogether  defending  the  wild  beast, 
or  any  living  thing  of  earth,  sea  or  air  that  is 
self-willed  and  independent.  Self-will  often  runs 
into  license,  and  that  trait  once  manifested  in  any 
creature  on  the  planet,  he  is  set  upon  if  possible 
and  destroyed.  But  there  is  a  self-will  that  is  not 
license,  and  the  majority  of  wild  beasts  possess  it, 
with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  that  wildest  beast 
of  all— man  himself. 

Jungle  animals  hunt  and  kill  for  food,  and  fight 
for  stalking  ground;  but  it  is  not  evident  that 
the  majority  of  them  slaughter  for  the  fun  of  it, 
or  to  tone  up  their  nervous  systems,  strengthen 
their  lungs  with  deep  breathing,  or  purify  their 
blood  and  clarify  their  brains.  Necessity  and  the 
pangs  of  hunger  drive  them  forth  to  prey  upon 
their  victims,  but  surely  not  the  romantic  love  of 
adventure  for  adventure's  sake,  nor  a  desire  to 
collect  specimens  as  proof  positive  of  their  prow- 
ess and  sterling  worth.  They  demand  the  right 
to  life  and  freedom.  A  very  humble  demand  after 
all,  and  no  greater  than  that  made  by  man,  who 
screams  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "Give  me  liberty 
or  give  me  death l" 

Of  course,  in  the  estimation  of  the  ordinary  in- 
dividual, a  beast  or  animal  is  not  to>  be  considered 
in  the  same  category  as  man.  The  beast  is  in  a 
class  by  himself,  the  machine  class,  or  if  not  the 
machine  class,  in  the  created  class,  labeled  and 
ticketed  for  a  certain  destiny  which  is  that  of 
slaving  for  humanity,  or  if  not  slaving,  affording 


THE  WILD  BEAST  87 

mankind  its  chance  of  recreation  in  chase,  capture 
and  death,  for  the  death's  sake.  God  above— the 
loving  Father— made  these  poor  brutes,  as  a 
solace  to  man  in  his  hours  of  ennui,  a  source  of 
excitement  and  blood-letting  pleasure.  He,  the 
loving  Father,  desired  that  man  should  feel  the 
thrill  of  thrills,  the  ultimate  supreme  joy  of  hound- 
ing and  stalking,  and  holding  at  bay  some  poor 
four-legged  brute  that  had  presumed  to  assert  a 
little  independence,  and  live  in  "a  state  of 
nature. ' ' 

I  am  not  referring  now  to  the  right  of  mastery 
one  creature  has  over  another— man' included— for 
an  ultimate  beneficial  object,  say  that  of  self -pro- 
tection or  preservation,  but  to  that  assumption  of 
right  by  which  man  preys  upon  other  animals, 
possibly  less  beastly  than  himself,  for  sport. 

Now  the  climax  of  this  sport  is  reached  at  the 
time  the  hunted  creature  is  caught  and  the  killing 
takes  place.  At  this  supreme  moment  the  hunter's 
reward  is  at  hand.  He  thrills  with  his  sense  of 
power;  his  heart  beats  a  tattoo  in  his  breast;  his 
blood  mounts  to  his  brain.  His  victim,  whose  love 
of  freedom  is  paramount  though  his  body  writhes, 
is  the  exhibition  upon  which  he  gloats  like  a  glut- 
ton. It  is  a  voluptuous  sensation— nothing  in  the 
line  of  nerve  thrill  quite  equals  it— and  he  thanks 
and  thanks  again  his  "loving  Father"  for  bestow- 
ing upon  him  this  supreme  opportunity  and  ca- 
pacity for  revelling  in  this  double  extract  of  bliss. 
The  "four-legged"  brute  had  not  sinned  nor  at- 
tacked him.  He  had  been  peaceably  living  his  life, 
in  his  own  free,  independent  way  in  a  "state  of 


88  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

nature".  Perhaps  I  am  wrong;  possibly  he  had 
sinned.  What  more  unforgivable  than  to  dare  to 
live  thus?  Only  the  hunter  has  the  peremptory 
right  of  self-will ;  the  hunted  have  but  one  object 
in  being,  and  that  object  is  to  serve  their  captor 
and  him  only. 

The  beast  is  not  the  brother  of  man— no,  no; 
humanity  never  evolved  from  debased  specimens— 
never.  Any  theory  like  that  of  evolution  that 
implies  such  possibilities  is  preposterous.  Man 
and  man  only  has  rights!  And  the  wild  beast  is 
retreating  farther  and  farther  back  into  the  wil- 
derness, where  a  human  being  can  find  no  habitat. 
This  intolerable,  willful  thing  must  be  hunted  out, 
killed,  stuffed  and  set  up  in  a  museum.  The 
naturalist  needs  him;  the  nature  fakir  must  have 
him;  schools  and  colleges  cannot  get  on  without 
him.  Professors  have  a  call  to  wrangle  over  him. 
He  is  altogether  a  necessity  to  modernism.  Nim- 
rod,  the  mighty  hunter,  must  "get  busy." 

So;  this  wild  splendor  of  a  beast— the  lion  with 
a  voice  like  thunder  and  a  head  like  that  of  Olym- 
pian Zeus— eyes  anxious  and  pathetic,  staring 
over  desert  stretches  for  the  sight  of  the  enemy- 
ears  listening  for  the  report  of  the  deadly  rifle- 
nostrils  moist  and  wide  to  catch  the  far  scent  of 
danger;  this  king  of  beasts,  tawny  like  strained 
light— amber,  golden,  magnificent— stalking  his 
own  loved  territory,  guarding  his  mate  and  his 
cubs— is  to  die  the  death  of  shame,  that  man  may 
taste  a  supreme  sensation  and  gloat  over  a 
sanguineous  bliss.  Or  if  this  king  of  wild  beasts 
is  taken  alive,  he  serves  as  an  object  of  curiosity 


THE  WILD  BEAST  89 

to  crowds  of  sight-seers,  who  gaze  amusedly  at 
the  caged  creature  walking  back  and  forth  behind 
the  bars,  restlessly  doubling  and  turning  himself 
or  staring  ahead  as  if  seeing  a  mirage,  dim  and 
distant,  of  desert  splendor  and  jungle  beauty;  his 
eye  fixed  on  an  apparent  vacancy,  which,  to  him, 
is  filled  with  visions  of  other  days  when  free, 
dominant,  he  guarded  his  prescribed  domain  and 
sneered  at  fate. 

But  the  lion  is  not  the  only  wild  beast.  Up 
where  the  Ganges  rises,  the  splendid  tiger  cools 
his  bright  red  tongue;  haunting  difficult  places, 
the  crystal  springs  of  sacred  waters  are  offered 
him  for  drink.  Where  the  larch,  lichen,  trailing 
cedars,  birch,  pine  and  juniper  grow  rank,  the  sly 
fox  hunts  for  shelter  and  a  right  of  being.  In  the 
high  plateaus  and  inaccessible  mountains,  the 
wolf,  deer  and  wild  goat,  seek  safety  and  a  home. 
The  gazelle,  too,— free,  shy  and  beautiful,  with 
eyes  like  those  of  a  woman  in  love,  hides  in  un- 
used places.  The  man-like  chimpanzee  and  gorilla 
have  taken  up  land  far  from  human  quarters; 
while  the  zebra,  giraffe  and  elephant  keep  away 
from  countries  pre-empted  by  their  enemies— man- 
kind. Even  the  small,  dainty  bits  of  "wild 
beasts' '  strive  hard  to  find  unassailable  quarters 
and  establish  themselves  for  life.  But,  and  but  is 
sometimes  a  portentous  word,  the  more  difficult 
and  inaccessible  the  stalking  ground  of  the  wild 
beast,  the  more  anxious  man  becomes  to  drive  him 
forth.  No  matter  how  safe  he  is  from  their 
attacks,  they  are  never  safe  from  his.  He  hunts 
the  chamois  for  his  skin,  to  be  sure,  also  for  sport 


90  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

—and  to  get  a  constitutional.  He  shoots  the  deer 
for  the  antlers  that  adorn,  later  on,  his  hunting 
box;  and  the  lion  for  his  hide,  to  spread  beneath 
"my  lady's  feet."  Man  seems  to  be  incessantly 
tortured  by  the  idea  that  these  creatures  defy 
him,  so  he  pleads  excuse  after  excuse  for  ousting 
and  destroying  them.  He  needs  the  exercise;  his 
liver  is  lazy;  he  must  have  the  hide,  the  horns  are 
absolutely  essential;  life  would  be  inane  were  he 
deprived  of  these  gifts  and  privileges  which  his 
"Loving  Father"  has  so  beneficently  bestowed. 

So  up  where  the  lichen  grows,  on  the  great 
Siberian  plain,  he  hurries  armed  and  equipped. 
To  the  highlands  of  Turkestan  and  the  Plateau 
of  Thibet,  he  scrambles,  panting,  out  of  breath. 
To  the  desert  of  Iran  he  wends  his  way.  To  the 
source  of  the  great  rivers  in  the  Himalayas  he 
pushes.  On  the  borders  of  Africa  you  see  him, 
and  in  the  Soudan,  or  penetrating  Libya>  and 
sniffing  hungrily  the  keen  air  of  the  Sahara.  He 
is  afraid  of  nothing  when  "his  blood  is  up,"  and 
the  hunter's  moon  rises  like  a  shield  of  gold  from 
the  waste  land  of  earth.  He  only  is  entitled  to 
freedom.  Wild  beasts  who  have  pre-empted  far 
quarters  he  has  no  use  for;  and  though  they 
severely  let  him  alone,  they  must,  nevertheless,  be 
routed  out,  tortured  and  killed,  that  his  supremacy 
may  be  assured— and  his  health  and  liver  pre^ 
served. 

Great  God  in  Heaven!  where  in  destiny  is  that 
mirage  of  a  millenium,  promised  by  one  of  old, 
when  the  lion  and  the  lamb  shall  lie  down  together 


THE  WILD  BEAST  91 

and  cruelty  and  blood  debauchery  be  consigned  to 
perdition  1 

Of  course,  there  must  be  killing  on  this  old 
earth  of  ours.  The  " fittest"  is  bound  to  survive; 
for  self-preservation  and  self-protection  all  living 
things  are  destroying  and  eating  one  another. 
But  if  through  cruel  necessity  that  condition  must 
be,  why  add  to  it  willful  slaughter  for  sport,  and 
the  love  of  slaying  for  the  slaying 's  sake? 

I  have  heard  that  the  sin  of  sins,  the  unforgiv- 
able transgression,  is  that  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 
What  comes  nearer  being  that  deadly  sin  than 
the  rampant  orgy  experienced  by  the  human  soul 
when  it  revels  in  brute  killing,  for  the  thrills  it 
brings?  The  sin  of  the  sportsman  is  not  visited 
upon  the  victim,  for  he  can  die  but  once,  but  upon 
his  own  soul,  which  it  eats  and  cankers.  He 
brutalizes  himself  and  those  divine  powers  given 
him  for  celestial  enjoyment.  His  bliss  in«>his-  act 
of  killing  is  Mephistophelian.  Yet  should  this  ex- 
treme view  of  the  question  be  presented  to  him, 
he  would  laugh,  and  declare  that  his  premise  for 
life  is  quite  different,  and  therefore"  he  feels  justi- 
fied in  his  attitude  toward  the  brute  creation;  in 
fact,  these  wild  beasts  were  bestowed  upon  him 
as  a  gift  by  his  "  Loving  Father"  to  do  with  as 
he  wills,  and  therefore  he  has  no  apology  to  make 
here  or  hereafter. 


MAN  AND  WOMAN,  OR  WOMAN  AND 
MAN- WHICH? 

I  can  imagine  a  composite  man,  made  up  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  different  males  of  various 
countries  to  date,  laying  down  the  law  to  a  com- 
posite woman  who  stands  beside  him.  "I  am  the 
one,"  he  says;  "you,  woman,  are  but  an  adden- 
dum  —  an  afterthought.  God  made  me,  or  I 
evolved,  it  does  not  matter  which,  and  you  came 
later  at  my  desire,  as  a  solace  for  my  hours  of 
ease.  You  were  given  into  my  hands  to  do  with  as 
I  see  fit,  exactly  as  were  the  birds  of  the  air,  the 
beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea.  Look 
at  my  brawn,  my  brain,  my  size— now  what  are 
you  going  to  do  about  it?"  And  the  "down-to- 
date"  woman  shrugs  her  shoulders  and  stares  im- 
pudently into  his  eyes.  "Never  mind,"  he  goes 
on,  "you  can  sneer  and  rail  and  scoff,  but  before 
you  begin,  let  me  call  your  attention  to  some  in- 
controvertible facts.  See  those  pyramids  defying 
time,  monsters  on  the  edge  of  Libya,— I  did  that! 
See  the  Sphinx  and  the  mighty  pillars  of  Thebes 
and  Baalbec,— I  did  that!  See  those  miracles  of 
architecture  in  India,  and  those  exquisite  temples 
of  Cathay  and  Japan,— I  did  that!  Look  at  those 
black  tunnels  under  mountain  chains,  those  for- 


MAN  AND  WOMAN  93 

tresses  and  castles;  glance  along  the  great  wall 
of  China,— I  did  that!  Stare  over  the  ocean  and 
watch  the  craft  as  they  come  and  go;  the  steam- 
ship, the  white-winged  sailboat.  Gaze  at  the 
thousands  of  miles  of  steel  rail,  and  the  freight 
and  palace  cars,  pulled  by  the  iron  horse,  anni- 
hilating distance  between  seas— I  did  that!  Be- 
hold the  balloon  and  the  airship  mounting  to  the 
zenith ;  see  the  diving  bell  and  the  submarine  boat 
descending  to  the  depths — I  did  that!  Notice 
carefully  the  lens  of  the  telescope,  how  exquisite- 
ly it  is  ground,  wooing  the  stars  out  of  heaven  by 
its  clarity,  fineness  and  power— I  did  that!  Just 
examine  this  miscroscope,  bringing  new  worlds  to 
light  and  new  possibilities  to  the  fore;  consider 
the  revelations  of  the  X-ray  and  the  N;  glance  at 
your  telephone,  please,  and  the  wireless,— I  did 
that!  Why,  madam,  the  very  garments  you  wear 
are  the  result  of  my  effort,  mine.  Your  furs,  your 
shoes,  your  shoe-strings,  those  barbarisms  on  your 
headgear,  are  a  gift  from  me.  The  gems  on  your 
fingers,  the  gold  in  your  teeth,  are  due  to  my  in- 
genuity,—I  did  all  that!  The  house  you  live  in, 
the  bed  you  sleep  on,  the  food  you  devour,  the 
carriage  you  ride  in— you  have  to  thank  me  for- 
me! me!  The  really  great  pictures  that  your  eyes 
gloat  upon,  a  large  proportion  of  the  literature 
you  read,  the  music  that  charms  you,  are  due  to 
me." 

"But  you  swear,  sir,"  interrupts  the  composite 
woman,  shrugging  her  shoulders  again;  "you  get 
drunk,  sir,  your  mind  is  defiled,  your  thoughts  are 
impure. ' ' 


94  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

"Drunk!"  he  sneers,  "even  you  would  indulge 
had  you  such  a  marvelous  record  over  which  to 
glory  and  boast.  Now  what  have  you  to  say  about 
me— am  I  not  master  as  well  as  man?" 

The  woman  stares  long  in  his  eyes  without 
quailing;  indeed,  the  expression  in  her  own  is 
sneering  and  defiant. 

"No  one  doubts  that  you  manipulate  matter 
very  well, ' '  she  answers,  with  a  drawl  that  carries 
in  it  a  deal  of  contempt.  "Your  mind  even  is 
quite  godlike;  but  how  about  yourself  as  such? 
You  are  ugly,  straight,  flat— the  beauty  of  curves 
is  not  yours.  You  grow  a  coarse  beard  on  your 
face;  you  are  far  from  neat;  you  smoke  a  vile 
cigar,  expectorate  tobacco  juice,  and  say  vulgar 
and  impossible  things;  you  boast  and  brag  and 
preach,  but  fail  to  practice;  you  fight  and  knock 
your  enemy  down.  Altogether  as  a  person,  apart 
from  your  achievements,  you  are  mostly  con- 
temptible. But  look  at  me,  how  beautiful  I  am! 
Examine  the  texture  and  color  of  my  skin ;  glance 
into  my  eyes  and  behold  how  my  soul  leaps 
through  them;  look  at  my  rounded  form,  my  deli- 
cate hands,  tipped  with  rose-leaf  nails ;  watch  my 
dainty  ways  and  note  my  disgust  of  filth  and  nasty 
speech.  I  am  an  interior  being,  the  mother  of 
you,  the  male.  I  do  for  you  what  no  man  can; 
I  mould  and  form  you  for  nine  long  months.  My 
heart  is  all  devotion.  I  am  very,  very  pure,  finer 
grained  than  you— a  superior  being!  You  can- 
not bring  forth  a  child,  how  dare  you,  sir,  present 
your  mere  mechanical  contrivances  and  dead- 
weight monstrosities  as  in  any  way  comparable 


MAN  AND  WOMAN  95 

with  that  which  I  can  do  in  actually  producing 
an  organized  person,  which  is  yourself— you! 
Yes,  I  am  the  mother  of  man,  and  that  man  you. 
The  cause  is  certainly  equal  to  the  effect."  She 
towers  over  him  and  struts  slightly. 

"Possibly,"  he  answers,  scowling.  "You  have 
materialized  a  Frankenstein  in  producing  me. 
When  you  huddled  my  bones,  muscles  and  skin 
together  in  a  male  form,  how  did  you  know  but 
that  this  so-called  masculine  'effect'  of  yours 
might  strangle  and  murder  you?  What  is  to 
hinder  me  from  annihilating  you  altogether?  You 
are  utterly  in  my  power  and  at  my  mercy.  I  can 
make  of  you  a  beast  of  burden  less  valued  than 
my  horse  or  ox,  I  can  force  you  to  perpetual 
motherhood  or  perpetual  degradation,  I  can  lock 
you  up  and  condemn  you  to  ignorance— I  can  even 
make  you  love  me  and  grovel  at  my  feet ! ' ' 

She  shrugs  her  shoulders  again;  the  composite 
woman  has  acquired  this  habit. 

"True,"  she  answers,  "you  can  debase,  de- 
bauch and  imprison  me,  but  should  you  wipe  me 
off  the  face  of  the  earth,  you  annihilate  yourself 
also.  And  as  for  love,  I  may  simulate  it  in  order 
to  preserve  my  life,  but  the  real  thing  you  can 
never  compel  me  to  give.  Cupid  will  have  none 
of  you,  you  beast!  Would  you  be  loved  you  must 
give  love  in  return ;  once  feeling  that  emotion  you 
cannot  mistreat  the  object  upon  which  you  vent  it. 
This  question  is  self-settling,  sir."  She  struts 
again,  and  defies  him  with  her  eyes. 

"Love  is  a  mere  side  issue,"  he  asserts,  snap- 


96  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

pislily.  ' '  The  grand  passion  is  a  disease ;  man  gets 
over  it  after  a  time— then  what?" 

"You  prove  yourself  a  liar,"  she  retorts;  "for 
have  you  not  called  me  '  the  fairest, '  have  you  not 
said  that  to  be  with  me  was  like  dwelling  in  an 
orchard  of  spikenard  and  saffron,  calamus  and 
cinnamon,  with  all  the  trees  of  frankincense, 
myrrh  and  aloes?  Have  you  not  likened  me  to 
the  'lily  among  the  thorns?'  Have  you  not  told  me 
that  I  am  as  'a  fountain  of  gardens,  a  well  of 
living  waters'?" 

The  tears  begin  to  flow  from  her  eyes,  and  she 
bows  her  head.  Then  the  composite  man,  dumb- 
founded, looks  about  him  for  a  place  of  egress.  He 
can  fight  her  to  the  point  of  hatred,  but  when  she 
weeps,  he  is  beside  himself.  Eight  here  there 
appears  a  sage  upon  the  scene.  He  is  not  a  typ- 
ical ' '  wise  man, ' '  aged,  bearded  and  on  the  verge 
of  senility.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  erect  and  in 
his  prime,  with  eyes  quick-moving  and  temperate. 
His  bearing  expresses  power  without  bombast- 
authority  without  assumption.  He  steps  between 
this  man  and  woman  and  looks  them  in  the  eyes. 

"Why  such  distress  and  misunderstanding?" 
he  asks.    "What  is  it  all  about?" 

"You  are  a  philosopher,"  blurts  the  man;  "you 
ought  to  know." 

"Sit  down  and  let  us  discuss  this  matter,"  in- 
sists the  sage.  "You  are  both  aggressive,  and 
there  is  danger  of  a  quarrel." 

"Yes,  and  of  a  divorce,"  remarks  the  composite 
woman. 

"Impossible,"  asserts  the  philosopher.     "The 


MAN  AND  WOMAN  97 

negative  and  positive  can  never  get  rid  of  each, 
other;  soi  let  me  see  if  the  harmony  necessary  to 
amicable  relations  between  you  two  can  be  dis- 
covered. For  the  sake  of  politeness  and  the  priv- 
ileges supposed  to  be  her  due,  I  will  begin  with 
this  woman's  assumptions." 

"But  I  do  not  want  any  privileges,"  she  asserts, 
hotly;  "justice  is  all  I  ask!" 

"Very  well,  then.  First,  you  make  claim  to 
superior  beauty.  As  a  man  thinketh,  so  is  he, 
and  I  presume  this  rule  applies  to  woman  also1. 
Therefore,  as  you  are  quite  assured  that  you  are 
more  beautiful  than  man,  your  certainty  counts 
for  something.  Besides,  man  in  his  passion  has 
filled  your  soul  with  this  idea,  using  flattery  as  a 
means  to  obtain  his  desires,  and  you  in  your 
credulity  believed  him;  indeed,  for  the  time  being 
he  was  honest,  for  while  his  passion  lasted  your 
fascinations  were  certainly  genuine.  Therefore, 
you  have  reason  for  your  assumption  of  beauty. 
But,  remember,  it  is  the  jack-o'-lantern  of  the 
mating  season  appearing  and  vanishing  on  the 
wings  of  sex  emotion." 

"Next  you  assert  your  purity  as  evidence  of 
your  superiority  over  man.  Now,  my  dear  mother 
of  man,  remember  that  being  a  composite,  you 
are  made  up  of  the  traits  of  saint  and  sinner;  in 
you  are  the  fires  of  the  courtesan  and  the  religious 
devotee,  the  woman  of  the  brothel  and  the  nun  of 
the  cloister.  Do  not  imagine  that  torpid  physical 
conditions  stand  for  innocence  nor  ignorance. 
Purity  is  fire  blazing  in  high  places ;  purity  is  not 
atrophy;  purity  is  temptation   resisted,    not    the 


98  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

lack  of  temptation.  More  negative  than  your 
enemy,  the  male,  you  may  or  may  not  be  more 
pure.  So  please  lay  no  stress  upon  your  superior- 
ity on  that  score.  But  your  claim  for  a  higher 
place  in  the  universe  than  belongs  to  your  oppo- 
site, is  because  you  have  given  him  birth 
after  forming  and  nourishing  him;  and  this 
assumption  is  certainly  worth  looking  into.  In 
fact,  had  you  in  reality  created  him,  you  might 
well  rest  on  the  apex  of  achievement.  But  there 
is  nothing  to  prove  in  science,  to  date,  that  you 
did  more  in  the  nine  months  that  you  mothered 
him,  than  to  help  him  clothe  himself  in  a  body  of 
flesh.  There  is  nothing  to  prove  that  he  is  not  an 
eternal  being  making  use  of  you  temporarily  as 
a  means  toward  reincarnation.  I  do  not  assert 
that  this  is  so;  I  simply  challenge  you  to  prove 
the  contrary.  One  thing,  however,  you  may  be 
sure  of— you  can  do  something  that  he  cannot; 
that  is,  mother  the  child  within  the  zone  of  your 
own  body." 

''Now  let  me  look  into  his  side  of  the  question, 
and  see  if  he  can  make  his  egoistic  claims  good. 
You  Twentieth  Century  composite  man!  Point 
with  just  pride  at  your  great  achievements  which 
certainly  are  gigantic,  but  I  see  no  reason  why 
they  might  not  have  been  done  by  woman,  minus 
the  maternal  capacity.  Woman  seems  to  be  you 
with  something  added,  namely,  maternity,  which 
addition  amounts  to  a  subtraction,  as  a  certain 
proportion  of  her  years  and  strength  goes  toward 
the  exercise  of  this  extra  faculty.  Now  suppose 
the  world  of  women  ceased  to  exercise  this  latter 


MAN  AND  WOMAN  99 

prerogative,  except  in  a  certain  number  of  selected 
cases  set  apart  for  the  reproduction  of  the  human 
race,  and  spent  a  century  or  more  in  developing 
brain  and  muscle  equally  with  man.  Is  there  any- 
thing to  prove  that  she  would  fall  behind  him  in 
the  arts,  sciences,  or  physical  achievements?  If 
history  or  legend  have  a  base  of  truth,  there  have 
been  times  when  women,  the  Amazons,  for  in- 
stance, were  capable  of  herculean  attainments; 
and  the  sporadic  cases  all  through  history  show 
that  she  has  possibilities  in  her  of  producing 
masterpieces  under  unusual  conditions.  The  ex- 
ceptional women  of  all  ages  prove  what  the  gen- 
eral level  might  be  under  favorable  environment. 
So,  my  vain  composite  man,  when  crowing  over 
your  material  achievements,  remember  that 
woman,  taking  advantage  of  the  higher  educa- 
tion, attending  colleges  and  remaining  unmarried 
until  far  advanced  in  youth,  reduces  her  child- 
bearing  period  to  fifteen  or  twenty  years.  This, 
with  the  fact  that  her  knowledge  of  hygienics  and 
physical  culture,  will  probably  greatly  prolong 
her  life,  gives  her  in  a  period  of,  say  eighty  years, 
sixty  or  more  for  other  work  than  that  of  pro- 
creation. Now  there  is  no  telling  what  splendid 
achievements  she  may  be  equal  to  in  this  half 
century  or  more,  when  her  education  shall  have 
so  advanced  as  to  act  as  a  stimulant  to  her  crea- 
tive powers.  The  fainting,  clinging,  uneducated, 
much-married  woman  is  out  of  fashion.  The  time 
she  once  spent  in  making  a  patch-work  quilt  is 
now  devoted  to  study  or  athletics,  and  in  a  few 
decades  a  quite  different  feminine  specimen  will 


100  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

walk  the  earth  from  her  who  lives  and  moves 
today. 

"But,  setting  all  this  aside,  from  whatever 
standpoint  you  judge,  remember  that  mathematic- 
ally speaking,  woman  plus  maternity,  minus  the 
strength  and  time  lost  through  it,  equals  you  with 
your  unadulterated  aptitude  for  mechanical  and 
intellectual  achievement.  Eemember,  too,  that 
your  power  over  her  body,  enabling  you  to  im- 
prison or  debauch  it,  is  fully  balanced  by  her 
power  over  your  very  physical  existence  itself; 
or  if  not  over  your  physical  existence,  at  least 
over  what  sort  of  life  and  body  you  shall  have. 

So  you  two  imperishable,  opposite  poles  of  the 
same  thing— man  and  woman— standing  for  the 
negative  and  positive  in  being  or  the  inner  and 
outer,  forget  not  that  this  is  after  all  but  a  sex 
relationship,  and  that  each  of  you  beyond  and 
above  your  gender  is  an  individual,  destined  to 
manifest  in  a  million  forms  during  an  eternity  of 
being.  Once  believing  this,  for  the  sake  of  peace, 
I  pray  you,  cease  your  boasting  and  your  wrang- 
ling as  to  which  is  higher  or  lower  or  first  or 
last ;  and  see  that  one  of  you  is  in  no  way  superior 
as  an  entity  to  the  other,  and  that  in  the  long 
run  and  general  round  up  you  stand  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  the  brand  burnt  into  you  both  being  the 
mark  human   and  therefore  good!" 


CHEAP  VERBIAGE. 

It  is  the  easiest  thing  imaginable  to  call  names; 
a  street  ruffian  is  quite  equal  to  it,  to  say  nothing 
of  a  child;  therefore  when  a  college  professor 
pronounces  women  savages,  and  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  declares  that  men  are  beasts,  the  appella- 
tions pass  for  face  value  and  nothing  more.  The 
word  "fool"  hissed  at  another  may  set  the 
calumniator  burning  in  everlasting  fires,  or  pro- 
ducing but  a  flash  go  out  like  a  firecracker.  It  is 
quite  easy  to  say  things,  but  often  exceedingly 
difficult  to  verify  them  and  stand  by  results. 
Even  my  so-called  proofs  may  rest  on  a  faulty 
premise,  and  therefore  have  no  effect  save  that  of 
kindling  flames  of  indignation  wherever  the  sparks 
of  my  ill-sorted  words  hit.  Seeing  but  the  outer 
appearance  of  Mr.  Innocence,  I  may  pronounce  him 
a  heartless  iceberg;  could  I  get  into  the  recesses 
of  his  divine  soul,  I  should  possibly  discover  a 
seething  volcano.  It  is  rather  daring  to  dabble 
in  strong  terms  as  regards  the  inaccessible.  If  I 
know  a  thing  thoroughly  I  am  justified  in  denoun- 
cing or  applauding  it  in  sharp  language.  I  may 
pick  it  up  with  a  pointed  stick  of  a  word  and 
transfix  it  for  the  world  to  stare  at,  but  before  I 


102  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

presume  on  anything*  so  radical  I  would  better  be 
sure  of  myself  and  the  thing  that  I  have  in  hand. 

The  cheapness  of  language  and  the  richness  of 
vocabulary  impel  the  sage  to  be  laconic.  Pedantry 
he  despises,  sentimentality  he  avoids,  bullet-words 
fired  from  the  throat  of  a  street  Apache  are  to 
him  a  horror.  So  being  entirely  wise,  he  rarely 
calls  names,  and  seldom  uses  reviling  terms.  Sel- 
dom, I  say,  for  sometimes  he  makes  exceptions 
and  pronounces  an  anathema  more  terrible  than 
the  ecclesiastical  curse,  because  in  the  heart  of  it 
sits  truth,  virgin  and  enshrined. 

Truth  then  is  the  only  excuse  for  calling  names 
—truth  absolute  and  relative,  truth  unassailable 
and  beyond  question.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  rarely  a 
strong  term  can  honestly  be  used,  and  why  the 
wise  of  earth  though  speaking  with  authority 
avoid  exaggeration.  The  chances  are  that  strings 
of  names  applied  indiscriminately  to  some  object 
are  like  a  glaring  advertisement  spread  upon  its 
windows  as  "a  send-off"  to  the  poster  himself. 
He  sees  no  other  way  of  getting  famous;  or  lack- 
ing mental  fibre  he  perhaps  attempts  to  i  l  kill  two 
birds  with  one  stone,"— the  winged  abstraction 
and  the  soaring  individual  exalted  by  it.  Inflated 
by  egotism  he  thinks  he  has  them  down,  but  more 
likely  he  himself  is  prone  and  they  untouched  fly 
on.  The  man,  whether  a  teacher  or  poacher,  who 
calls  such  names  as  "ninny,"  "beast,"  "savage," 
' '  consummate  fool, ' '  etc.  has  some  motive  or  other. 
Probably  he  seeks  self-aggrandizement  through  a 
cheap  method  of  advertising;  if  not  that,  he  is 
likely  after  revenge,  hoping  to  down  his  enemy 


CHEAP  VEEBIAGE  1D3 

with  his  slanderous  tongue.  Possibly  he  is  justi- 
fied, and  pronounces  a  maranatha  that  "rings 
true"  and  final.  Whatever  his  reason,  he  is  on 
fighting  ground  and  can  never  stand  against  re- 
turn attack  unless  armed  with  good  weapons  and 
trained  to  the  firing  line. 


THE  THOUGHTS  THAT  KILL. 

Thought  is  said  to  be  dynamic,  but  what  does 
the  term  dynamic  mean?  Does  it  pertain  to 
mechanical  forces  not  in  equilibrium,  or  in  equili- 
brium? According  to  the  authorities,  it  always 
involves  the  consideration  of  force  and  therefore 
motion.  It  is  a  vague  word,  applied  indiscrimi- 
nately to  religion,  philosophy  and  morals.  The 
nearest  we  can  come  to  accuracy  in  defining  it  is 
to  call  dynamics  the  mathematics  of  force  and  the 
science  of  motion.  Now  is  thought  dynamic,  that 
is,  can  we  call  it  an  equilibrated  or  unequilibrated 
force?  Does  it  move?  Can  it  be  reckoned  with 
mathematically?  If  so,  do  we  realize  what  a 
power  thought  is?  Thought,  mind  you,  is  not 
speech,  for  the  latter  in  expressing  it  is  likely  to 
weaken  its  projectile  power. 

I  want  in  this  paper  to  consider  thought  as  such, 
quite  apart  from  its  written  or  spoken  symbolisms. 
The  whole  world  is  thinking  and  that  means,  if 
our  hypothesis  be  correct,  that  thought  has  its 
element  of  force  in  motion;  that  a  terrific  impact 
of  energy  is  bombarding  us  at  all  times,  night  and 
day,  giving  us  shock  upon  shock,  the  source  of 
which  is  beyond  our  ken.  Put  squarely,  this  is 
an  awful  assumption,  and  it  is  a  wonder  that  we 


THE  THOUGHTS  THAT  KILL  105 

can  stand  before  it  and  persist  in  maintaining  our 
individuality.  The  unseen  world  is  a  fearful  bat- 
tle ground,  where  thought  unshielded  crashes 
upon  thought,— force  meeting  force  with  diabolic 
persistence,  idea  embracing  idea  in  the  clutch  of 
marriage  or  death,  energies  defying  energies  with 
devilish  mathematical  certainty,  dynamics  ruling 
fate  and  humbling  individualism  to  its  knees.  I 
can  think  and  so  can  you,  and  that  is  what  is  the 
matter.  Animals,  too,  whether  reasoners  or  not, 
can  cogitate  and  mingle  in  this  hideous  contest 
indiscriminately.  Thought  is  like  lightning  in  the 
way  it  strikes.  Whence  it  comes,  whither  it  goes, 
how  or  whom  it  will  hit,  is  beyond  the  common 
herd  to  ascertain,  and  our  only  defense  is  in  strik- 
ing back  with  the  same  kind  of  projectile  energy 
that  has  proved  itself  antagonistic. 

Before  going  further  in  this  investigation  I  pro- 
pose to  find  a  definition  for  thought  and  another 
for  reason;  peering  at  the  same  time  into  the  ani- 
mal's mind  to  discover  where  to  place  him  in  this 
battle  ground  of  dynamics. 

First,  then,  what  is  thought?  The  act  of  think- 
ing might  be  simply  defined  as  consciousness  of 
certain  phenomena  belonging  together,  suggested 
primarily  by  the  senses,  but  held  intact  inwardly 
till  they  develop  into  a  motion  true  to  itself 
throughout;  one  that  can  be  revived  at  any  time 
as  a  whole,  standing  apart,  defiant  of  other 
motions.  In  thinking,  we  get  a  suggestion  from 
outside,  and  about  it  we  weave  a  series  of  judg- 
ments, comparing  it  with  other  notions  hereto^ 
fore  conceived.    In  a  sense,  thought  contains  some 


106  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

small  percentage  of  reasoning,  though  the  reasoner 
himself  may  be  quite  unaware  that  his  mind  has  a 
logical  tendency.  Thought  involves  within  itself 
the  elements  of  doubt,  purpose  and  will.  Thought 
lies  within  thought,  that  is,  a  simple  notion  may 
be  reflected  upon  until  it  becomes  more  and  more 
subtle  and  complex,  far  removed  from  the  original 
concept,  yielding  in  a  sort  of  last  analysis  the 
very  texture  and  mathematics  of  thinking  itself. 
Now  what  is  reason?  Reason  seems  to  be  a 
form  of  reckoning  or  summing  up  of  notions,— a 
finding  of  relationships  between  them;  it  amounts 
to  an  emphatic  judgment,  and  results  in  decision 
or  action.  Thought  pure  and  simple  seems  less 
purposeful,  it  is  contemplative  and  meditative, 
but  when  it  culminates  in  decision,  it  were  better 
called  reason,  and  is  generally  borne  out  by  a  line 
of  conduct.  Reason  being  a  just  relationship  of 
facts,  from  the  generalized  point  of  view  becomes 
a  kind  of  universal  intelligence,  a  recognized  logic 
of  events,  and  sequence  of  particulars  bound  to  be, 
because  of  the  law  of  relativity  or  cause  and  effect. 
From  this  definition  of  reason,  animals  are  cer- 
tainly reasonable,  though  some  enthusiasts  on 
comparative  animal  psychology  claim  to  the  con- 
trary. What  animals  are  or  are  not  in  the  think- 
ing world  depends  upon  how  thought  and  reason 
are  defined.  Given  a  major  premise  in  logic  and 
the  minor  premise  deduced  is  the  reason— perhaps 
this  explanation  will  decide  whether  the  beast 
uses  reason  or  not.  How  do  we  deduce  a  minor 
premise  from  a  major  except  through  inference 
based  on  experience?    The  first  or  major  premise 


THE  THOUGHTS  THAT  KILL  107 

is  an  accepted  fact  or  axiom  because  of  experience, 
and  the  minor  has  its  normal  relationship  as  a 
legitimate  and  reasonable  successor.  Do  animals 
fail  to  recognize  the  universal  truth  of  a  major 
premise,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  find  out  by  a 
series  of  experiments  the  validity  of  the  minor? 
This  is  the  question  under  fire  today,  and  from 
its  present  state  might  be  answered  either  way. 
Man,  however,  most  assuredly  reasons  logically, 
by  the  nature  of  mind  itself,  and  this  reason 
which  includes  innumerable  reasons,  while  it 
necessitates  thought,  can  hardly  be  defined  as 
such.  All  brainy  creatures  think  more  or  less, 
that  is,  they  are  teeming  with  opinions,  ideas  and 
beliefs,  and  of  course  this  thinking  is  reasonable 
or  unreasonable,  as  the  case  may  be  based  on,  or 
devoid  of  facts.  Thought  can  be  listed  and  regis- 
tered—fact related  logically  to  fact,  or  it  may  be 
a  loose  array  of  notions,  ideas  and  dreams,  backed 
by  terrific  energy  that  gives  it  dynamic  potency 
without  an  element  of  sequence  or  truth  to  justify 
its  being.  Thought,  then,  unbalanced  by  the  ele- 
ment of  reason,  and  active  with  force,  is  dangerous, 
and  more  likely  than  not  will  maim  or  kill.  Now 
in  the  finality  we  do  not  know  what  force  is,  nor 
the  reason  for  thought  and  consciousness.  Sec- 
ondarily, however,  we  understand  the  working  of 
the  laws  by  which  consciousness  and  thought 
become  possible,  also  the  essentials  that  go  to 
make  up  reason  and  all  that  pertains  thereto. 
We  know  that  no  thought  can  be  without  an 
expense  of  energy,  and  therefore  the  assumption 
is  not  preposterous  when  we  infer  that  thought 


108  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

is  dynamic.  We  know  also  that  all  thought  takes 
form  and  symbolizes  itself  in  some  sort  of  figure, 
expressing  itself  internally  in  the  same  dimen- 
sions and  outlines  that  exterior  objects  assume; 
therefore  it  is  not  too  great  an  assumption  to 
claim  that  thoughts  are  things. 

Presuming  then  that  thoughts  are  dynamic,  to 
an  extent  unreasonable,  and  also  things,  if  our 
hypothesis  be  tenable,  we  can  readily  see  what  a 
terrible  means  of  destruction  they  might  become 
under  favoring  conditions.  Bombarded  by  the 
thoughts  of  others  we  certainly  are,  though  per- 
haps in  a  haphazard  way;  now  imagine  such  a 
bombardment  done  with  deliberate  intention  by 
some  individual  who  has  a  special  object  to  gain. 
Sent  directly  to  its  mark,  the  unconscious  recipient 
of  this  fusilade  or  dynamic  discharge  that  is 
freighted  with  suggestions  diabolic  and  damning, 
must  in  course  of  time  succumb  to  the  malignant 
attack.  Unless  put  upon  the  defensive  he  will  be 
as  literally  murdered  by  outer  suggestions  as 
though  he  were  battered  down  with  a  ram. 

All  this  seems  quite  possible  if  thoughts  are 
dynamic  things  projected  by  will  at  an  unpro- 
tected object.  What  is  to  be  done  about  it,  you 
ask,  if  such  an  assumption  is  proven  to  be  fact? 
As  fire  is  the  remedy  for  fire,  so  thought  must 
fight  thought,  or  rather  negative  it.  Suppose  I 
send  thoughts  malignant  with  hatred,  like  whiz- 
zing bullets  straight  at  a  man's  soul,  and  sup- 
pose, too,  that  they  glance  off  that  soul  and  have 
no  effect— why!  Simply  because  he  has  shielded 
himself  with  ''dynamic  things"  of  his  own.    The 


THE  THOUGHTS  THAT  KILL  109 

mathematics  of  energy  has  been  reckoned  on  in 
his  case;  forms  of  his  own  conception  are  giants 
that  stand  guard,  panoplied  and  immune.  His 
"thought  forms"  are  resistive  Titans,  and  from 
their  gleaming  shields  the  darts  of  the  enemy  fall 
harmless.  Even  a  rushing  onslaught  of  those  evil 
demons,  themselves  fighting  tooth  and  nail  with 
his  own  strong  phalanx,  are  unable  to  throw  it 
down. 

Man  then  can  "think  off"  the  thoughts  of  others 
and  stand  comparatively  aloof,  or  unguarded  he 
may  become  a  clear-cut  target  for  intentional  or 
unintentional  attacks.  He  lives  in  a  veritable 
chaos  of  thought  forms,  dynamic  and  mathemat- 
ically forceful,  nevertheless  is  safe  and  protected 
by  a  reasoning  power  of  his  own  without  which 
he  would  be  thrown  down  and  destroyed.  What 
then  are  the  thoughts  that  kill  another  who  sets 
up  no  defense  and  is  utterly  unprepared  for 
attack? 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  I  deliberately  direct 
my  thinking  powers  toward  the  belittling  and 
disgrace  of  an  apparent  friend.  I  depreciate  him 
mentally,  night  and  day;  I  think  of  him  as  degen- 
erate, small,  mean;  I  condemn  him  constantly  and 
despise  him  without  mercy— subtly,  silently,  I 
bombard  him  with  ideas  of  contempt,  never  for 
an  instant  qualifying  my  condemnations  with  a 
grain  of  charity.  In  time  somehow,  without 
knowing  why,  he  will  begin  to  lose  his  self-respect, 
to  see  himself  with  my  eyes,  to  judge  himself  with 
my  mind.  Feeling  himself  contemptible,  he  will 
begin  to  act  the  part,  and  his  downward  course 


110  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

once  begun,  he  will  lose  no  time  in  striking  bot- 
tom,—a  victim  of  my  murderous  energy  directed 
with  forethought  at  the  very  foundation  of  his 
honor  and  uprightness;  worse,  I  remain  unhung, 
unpunished,  as  far  as  the  world  goes,  while  he  is 
denied  a  burying  spot  in  a  decent  graveyard,  or  a 
single  excuse  for  his  degenerate  conduct. 

The  deadly  danger  of  my  act  lies  in  its  secrecy. 
I  deliberately  set  about  to  exert  my  power,  hold- 
ing my  tongue  speechless,  that  the  potency  of  my 
devilish  spell  may  be  more  pronounced.  I  am  not 
the  slanderer  nor  backbiter,  nor  the  gossip,  not 
at  all;  on  the  contrary,  I  preserve  a  ''golden  si- 
lence," and  utterly  mislead  my  companions  as  to 
the  quiet  diabolism  of  my  deed.  Of  course,  there 
will  be  a  round-up  and  I  shall  get  my  deserts  and 
the  brand  of  my  kind  stamped  in,  but  in  the  mean- 
time I  go  about  my  daily  tasks  a  smiling  good 
fellow,  approved  of  and  applauded  by  the  world 
at  large. 

Murderers  are  more  common  than  we  think,  and 
the  slain  by  unknown  causes  that  mystify  the 
coroner  are  being  shoveled  under  ground  every 
day  of  our  lives. 


FOOD. 

Alcohol  is  not  food;  alcohol  is  a  stimulant.  Food 
is  a  builder,  and  in  process  of  combustion  adds 
something  besides  a  temporary  exhilaration  to 
the  blood.  Food  contains  within  itself  the  neces- 
sary elements  for  the  reconstruction  of  the  body. 
Alcohol,  on  the  contrary,  is  destructive,  and  by 
its  over  excitation  of  the  cells  and  organs  pro- 
duces reactions  that  are  distinctly  injurious.  All 
stimulants  deal  more  or  less  in  this  way,  but  alco- 
hol in  any  form  is  the  king  of  destroyers.  He 
who  cheats  himself  with  the  idea  that  alcohol  is 
an  emergency-aid  to  digestion,  a  food  by  proxy, 
so  to  speak,  is  entertaining  a  fiend  in  the  mask 
of  a  priest.  Alcohol  comes  graciously  into  the 
system,  soothing  or  exhilarating  it  as  the  case 
may  be,  and  he  who  imbibes  it  feels,  for  the  time 
being,  as  though  a  hooded  monk  were  blessing 
him  with  the  sacrament.  All  sweet  and  good 
things  uplift  themselves  in  his  mind;  he  loves  his 
friends  more  tenderly,  he  thinks  more  clearly,  his 
heart  and  mind  go  out  to  every  living  thing  in 
sympathy;  his  ambition  swells  to  bursting,  he 
longs  for  world  upon  world  to  conquer— even  the 
stars;— the  Priest  of  all  good  is  showering  bless- 
ings on  his  head.  Ah !  suddenly,  without  warning, 


112  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

the  aspect  of  this  Bonze,  called  of  God,  becomes 
malignant  and  the  victim  of  his  machinations 
finds  himself  slightly  incoherent  in  his  thought. 
His  ideas,  so  clear  a  moment  before,  fail  to  co-or- 
dinate; the  love  so  welling  and  deep  an  instant 
ago  turns  to  jealousy  and  suspicion.  What  has 
happened  to  him?  He  has  been  tippling,  that  is 
all.  Tired  with  work  he  slipped  off  into  the  coun- 
try or  up  to  the  mountain  top,  and  drank  a  few 
glasses  of  beer  "in  order  to  build  himself  up," 
tone  his  nerves  and  make  him  "good  and  ready" 
for  another  battle  with  life.  He  imagines  his  food 
will  assimilate  better  if  he  adds  alcohol  to  the 
combination;  in, fact,  he  imagines  all  sorts  of 
things  just  because  he  wants  to  find  an  excuse 
for  indulging  a  bad  habit. 

Now  food  pure  and  simple  is  stimulating  also, 
but  it  is  the  natural  exultant  uplift  of  a  real 
climb,  there  is  nothing  fictitious  about  the  rise. 
On  a  well-digested,  assimilated  meal,  a  man  does 
not  mentally  ascend  to  the  heights  of  heart  and 
intellect  in  a  balloon  that  bursts  in  mid-air  and 
drops  him  ignominiously  to  earth.  The  stimula- 
tion of  food  is  normal ;  in  fact,  the  pleasure  result- 
ant is  an  index  of  work  well  done.  A  true  addi- 
tion has  been  made  in  the  bank  of  man's  physical 
being;  there  is  something  to  show  for  it.  The 
figures  in  his  book  of  accounts  stand  for  substan- 
tiate. He  commands  something  better  than  credit ; 
he  has  product  instead. 

Now  there  are  stimulants  so  mildly  gentle  in 
their  reactions  that  their  effect  is  practically 
harmless  and  the  pleasure  they  give  justifies  their 


FOOD  113 

moderate  use.  But  once  and  for  all,  let  me  say 
to  you  that  alcohol  is  not  one  of  them.  "Danger! 
poison!"  should  be  written  on  every  bottle. 
"Handle  with  care"  is  not  sufficient.  Only  a 
physician  in  case  of  great  emergency  is  able  to 
do  even  that. 

How  beautifully  alcohol  flashes  in  the  light! 
Amber,  old  rose,  silver,  all  the  gems  sparkling  in 
liquid  splendor  in  its  drops.  The  sun  turns  them 
to  diamonds,  the  moon  to  opals.  Alas,  it  is  enti- 
cing,—like  a  courtesan!  To  mingle  in  it,  to  be  one 
with  it,  is  what  you  crave  and  anticipate.  It  has 
excited  your  appetite— and  so  does  food,  you  say. 
Yes,  but  with  a  difference.  Unless  you  are  fam- 
ished, starving,  your  normal  hunger  is  a  sane, 
reasonable  desire  to  put  something  adaptable  into 
your  body  in  the  place  of  that  used  up.  It  is  a 
simple  restoration  accompanied  by  a  temperate 
craving.  But  when  the  longing  seizes  you  for 
stimulant,  it  is  apt  to  become  frantic.  If  you 
cannot  satisfy  it  openly,  you  will  take  devious 
ways  to  gratify  it.  It  is  the  lust  of  the  palate, 
the  throat,  the  stomach,  the  whole  being.  Food 
soon  satisfies  a  healthy  appetite,  but  the  craving 
for  alcohol  is  insatiable.  As  a  rule,  the  more  you 
have,  the  more  you  want,  and  although  you  pam- 
per and  indulge  this  longing,  like  an  evil  woman,, 
it  "turns  and  rends  you". 

I  have  thus  far  been  speaking  of  food  as  such 
in  a  generalized  sense,  and  by  using  the  word 
food  I  have  absolutely  covered  the  question.  For 
food  is  food,  that  is,  a  body  builder,  and  anything 
that  fails  to  do  this,  be  it  bread,  meat,  vegetable 


114  STEAIGHT   GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

or  fruit,  is  not  food  at  all.  I  may  eat  a  hearty 
meal  of  wholesome  material,  and  it  may  make 
me  desperately  sick;  it  was  not  food  for  me. 
Pood  comprises  two  factors,  the  substance  and 
the  recipient.  Two  essentials  are  necessary  that 
food  may  deserve  its  appellation,  namely,  raw 
material  and  a  good  digestive  organism.  You 
may  haul  lumber  to  a  vacant  lot,  but  if  the  master 
carpenter  and  his  assistants  are  not  on  hand  the 
structure  will  fail  to  rise.  So  grain,  meat,  vege- 
tables and  fruit  become  food  at  just  that  point 
where  they  are  assimilated  and  turned  into  build- 
ing material  for  body.  ''What  is  one  man's 
meat  is  another  man's  poison,"  is  true  of  food, 
but  not  of  such  a  commodity  as  alcohol.  It  has 
essentially,  as  far  as  body  is  concerned,  one  ele- 
ment, namely,  that  of  rabid  stimulation,  and  is 
without  exception  every  man's  poison.  True,  this 
power  of  quick  stimulation  may  under  dire  ex- 
tremity act  as  a  rebuff  to  death,  warding  it  off  till 
other  factors  can  get  to  work;  but  outside  this 
possibility  it  has  no  excuse  for  being,  either  in 
medicine  or  the  pleasurable  physical  life  of  man. 
Extreme  cases,  such  as  a  terrible  accident,  or 
absolute  heart  failure,  are  like  those  others  where 
ether  and  chloroform  are  indispensable  in  hos- 
pital operations;  they  are  exceedingly  rare,  and 
do  not  come  under  the  head  of  our  ordinary  ex- 
periences in  life. 

There  are  food  cranks  who  lay  down  explicit 
rules  as  to  what  a  man  shall  or  shall  not  eat. 
There  are  others  again  who  preach  hygienic  con- 
ditions of  body  and  let  the  food  question  take  its 


FOOD  115 

own  gait.  Of  course,  there  are  well-known  food- 
stuffs, without  which  man  could  not  subsist,  and 
he  in  his  enthusiasm  for  them  forgets  that  with- 
out a  good  stomach  they  are  practically  useless. 
An  individual  writes  books  and  books  on  the 
value  of  wheat,  and  another  publishes  pamphlets 
on  how  to  develop  and  maintain  class  A  digestive 
organs.  I  am  quite  certain  that  he  who  has  ac- 
quired the  latter  will  take  no  issue  with  the  author 
on  the  food  values  in  wheat. 

Food,  as  I  said  before,  is  only  such  under  con- 
ditions, namely,  a  good  builder  and  something  to 
build  with.  Now  a  person  might  as  well  put 
rocks  into  his  stomach  as  grain,  if  it  is  cancerous 
or  burning  with  inflammation.  Whatever  is  there 
will  "lie  like  a  stone"— even  wheat. 

Fasting  has  been  and  still  is,  among  religious 
bodies,  a  great  remedy,  where  the  man  is  incapa- 
ble of  making  food  for  himself.  If  he  would  go 
off  when  he  is  "run  down"  to  some  high  moun- 
tain or  near  the  sea,  or  onto  the  great  plain,  and 
instead  of  slyly  or  perhaps  conscientiously  taking 
stimulant,  fast,  he  would  be  astonished  at  the 
result.  This  fasting  need  never  be  absurdly  done, 
he  simply  reduces  his  food  substance  to  minimum, 
giving  the  overstocked  body,  loaded  with  mate- 
rial not  food,  a  chance  to  free  itself. 

Food  is  a  valuable  commodity.  Much  that  is 
taken  in  at  the  mouth  is  incapable  of  being  made, 
through  the  chemical  processes  going  on  in  the 
digestive  organs,  into  food  at  all.  Once  in  a  man 
it  proceeds  to  clog  and  incapacitate  him,  and  fast- 
ing is  his  best  method  of  getting  rid  of  it.    Jesus 


116  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

came  " eating  and  drinking";  he  also  came  *  'fast- 
ing and  praying."  The  whole  food  secret  lies  in 
the  assimilation  of  the  products  used  for  the  sup- 
port of  life,  and  the  demon  to  be  conquered  every 
time  is  that  one  called  "over  supply,"  which  is 
greater  than  the  demand.  The  palate  is  a  mis- 
chievous thing.  Its  primal  object  no  doubt  was 
to  seduce  men  into  eating,  but  its  seductiveness 
overreached  itself  and  set  the  human  being  to 
gorging  and  imbibing. 

I  began  this  paper  with  a  reference  to  alcohol 
as  not  food,  believing  that  by  showing  the  eccen- 
tricities of  the  abnormal  the  normal  might  appear 
more  distinctly,  also  to  flatly  contradict  a  number 
of  savants  who  claim  that  alcohol  is  food.  All 
that  I  ask,  in  order  to  controvert  their  position, 
is  a  thorough  investigation  of  facts  as  to  the 
action  of  alcohol  and  its  destructive  quality.  Let 
biology,  physiology,  pathology,  make  some 
strictly  honest  experiments  and  gather  in  data 
unbiased  as  to  their  desires  on  the  subject,  and 
I  have  no  fear  but  my  position  will  stand. 

There  are  other  non-food  stimulants  used  quite 
largely,  but  as  alcohol  is  consumed  inordinately 
in  comparison  with  them,  I  use  that  as  my  lead- 
ing example.  Remembering  that  products  are 
not  food  until  they  are  accepted  and  chemicalized 
by  the  digestive  organs,  we  shall  be  astonished 
at  the  different  substances  men  devour,  accord- 
ing to  the  locality  and  climate  where  they  live. 
The  blubber  of  whale,  that  would  make  a  person 
of  the  temperate  zone  deathly  sick,  is  quite  the 
real  food  for  the  Esquimaux.    Curry  and  rice  suit 


FOOD  117 

the  East  Indian,  and  maize  the  New  Englander. 
Rats,  bugs  and  snakes  nourish  certain  human 
beings  as  surely  as  ice  cream  "tones  up"  a  chorus 
girl.  Climate  and  locality  are  tremendous  factors 
in  the  question  of  food.  So  also  is  social  inter- 
course. A  dinner  eaten  alone  may  go  undigested 
and  undeveloped  into  nourishment;  in  company, 
however,  the  same  "food-stuff"  may  build  a  man 
up  and  give  him  a  day's  outing.  Certain  states 
of  mind,  when  eating,  help  a  person  wonderfully 
in  the  process  of  digestion.  Certain  other  states 
retard  that  process  and  turn  his  "meal"  into 
poison.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  to  be  a  food- 
maker  one  should  discover  in  what  mood  he  best 
digests  his ' '  good  square  meal. ' '  This  is  as  vitally 
important  a  problem  as  that  about  the  substance 
out  of  which  that  same  square  meal  is  composed. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  certain  longings  for 
special  things  have  meaning  and  are  indicators 
of  what  is  really  good  for  a  human  being  to  eat 
and  drink.  These  longings  can  be  easily  dis- 
tinguished from  the  cravings  arising  from  a  fixed 
bad  habit.  The  normal  desire  for  the  right  thing 
out  of  which  to  make  food  does  not  stay  with  one, 
as  a  rule,  after  the  craving  has  been  gratified. 
One  gets  enough  shortly  of  that  which  he  wants, 
the  chemical  demand  has  been  satisfied  and  the 
desire  leaves  him.  I  am  not  speaking  now  of  the 
lust  of  the  palate,  but  a  cry  of  the  whole  body, 
for  some  special  thing,  like  acid,  water,  salt,  sugar. 
If  people  would  watch  the  inner  workings  of  their 
physical  being  more  scientifically,  they  would 
shortly  learn  its  language  and  be  able  to  make 


118  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

good  food  for  themselves  out  of  the  products  in 
hand.  In  manufacturing  food  they  incidentally 
develop  rich  blood,  which,  rushing  through  the 
veins  and  arteries,  distributes  the  products  and 
clears  up  the  by-products  all  along  the  line. 

In  closing  I  wish  again  to  emphasize  the  truth 
that  alcohol  and  other  stimulants  pure  and  simple 
are  not  food,  but  that  this  all  important  substance 
is  a  subtly  made  product  developed  in  the  human 
body  from  whatever  it  can  assimilate  and  use. 
There  is  no  use  in  laying  down  fixed  rules  as  to 
what  a  man  shall  eat.    But  that  same  man,  never- 
theless, should  find  out  for  himself  by  watching 
his  own  powers  in  digestion,  not  with  the  naked 
eye,  by  the  cruel  method  of  animal  vivisection, 
but  by  logical  conclusions  drawn  from  his  own 
conscious  experience  as*  to  how  successfully  or 
otherwise  the  manufacturer  within  him  is  work- 
ing out  the  problem.    Is  the  skin  of  a  man  clear, 
are  his  eyes  bright,  is  he  hungry  normally  and 
periodically?    Does  he  forget  his  meal  after  he 
has  eaten  it?    Are  the  economics  of  his  system 
up  to  par?    Do  the  supply  and  demand  balance? 
Does  he  hold  his  weight,  is  he  strong,  fully  alive 
and  ready  to  batt-le  with  difficulty?    Is  the  sense 
of  humor  tingling  within  him— does  he  love  to 
play,  does  he  love  to  work?     Is  he  defiant  of 
death?    Does  he  believe  himself  immortal,  is  he 
"dead  sure"  of  heaven  and  doubtful  about  hell? 
Are   angels   quite   possible  and  devils  a  toper's 
dream?    Then  "for  certain"  he  is  a  food  maker, 
and  consequently  a  being  of  power. 


THE  VALUE  OF  THE  IMAGINATION 
IN  LIFE. 

The  image  Is  not  the  ultimate  or  primal  energy 
which  expresses  through  it.  Symbols  in  the  mind 
are  apparently  the  means  by  which  this  same 
energy  becomes  self-conscious.  Furthermore, 
these  inner  forms,  ranging  from  pictures  to  let- 
ters and  letters  to  words  and  figures,  are  invari- 
ably patterned  on  an  outside  standard  or  objects 
discovered  by  the  physical  senses.  What  then  is 
imagination?  Imagination  is  the  inner  visualiz- 
ing, symbolizing  power  absolutely  coexistent  with 
thought  and  feeling  in  the  self-conscious  mind. 
A  man  could  not  think  coherently  for  an  instant 
without  this  faculty  of  forming  his  thought.  He 
may  possibly  be  aware  of  uplifting  or  depressing 
moods,  attractions  and  repulsions,  without  word- 
ing or  imagining  them  except  in  a  vague  way; 
but  true  thinking  necessitates  words  or  pictures 
in  which  to  clothe  it,  and  this  is  supplied  by  the 
imagination. 

You  can  see  at  once  then  of  what  value  the 
imagination  is  in  life,  and  how  impossible  it 
would  be  to  get  on  with  ourselves  and  our  fellows 
without  it.  Form  is  one  of  the  first  factors  in 
thought  and  comprehension;    specialization    into 


120  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

things  necessitates  form  and  consequently  the 
variety  which  makes  an  individual  life  a  possi- 
bility. 

There  is  no  absolute  uniformity  anywhere;  no 
two  forms  are  exactly  alike;  their  chief  bond  of 
relationship  lies  in  the  fact  of  form  itself,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  formless.  Law,  for  instance, 
is  formless,  yet  would  be  a  void  or  nothing  with- 
out form.  There  is  an  inherent  principle  of  form 
itself  which  is  the  one  and  only  unifying  tie  that 
unites  the  multiplicity  of  diversified  forms.  Any 
person  or  animal  that  thinks  at  all  has  a  dim  or 
distinct  recognition  of  this  principle  of  individ- 
uality and  form.  Now  the  difference  between  liv- 
ing creatures  in  regard  to*  this  inner  visualizing, 
form-making  power,  lies  in  its  clear-cut  intensity. 
An  artist  with  transcendent  power  will  remember 
with  almost  mathematical  accuracy  the  shapes  of 
animals,  birds,  people  and  types,  though  the  ex- 
terior model  be  absent.  Once  having  seen  some 
special  form  that  really  attracted  his  undivided 
attention,  he  carries  the  true  outline  of  it  in  his 
brain  and  can  reproduce  it  with  brush  or  pencil  at 
will.  Another  person  without  this  perfect  visual- 
izing faculty  will  have  but  a  vague  recollection  of 
the  accurate  shape  and  postures  of,  say  a  cat,  dog 
or  horse,  and  needs  must  have  the  living,  breath- 
ing model  before  his  physical  eyes  in  order  to 
make  a  picture  of  it.  Why?  Because,  as  I  said 
before,  our  inner  shapes  are  stolen  from  outside, 
and  he  that  can  best  concentrate  on  "outsideness" 
is  the  one  who  carries  the  accurate  image  within ; 
that  is,  he  can  visualize  and  his  dreams  are  peo- 


VALUE  OF  THE  IMAGINATION  IN  LIFE  121 

pled  with  such  vitalized  realities  that  they  become 
when  his  eyes  are  shut  a  horror  or  a  joy. 

In  the  power  to  concentrate  lies  the  open  secret 
of  what  men  call  a  wonderful  imagination.  I  will 
not  say  that  memory  is  another  factor,  because 
the  power  to  concentrate  includes  the  power  to 
remember.  Concentration  is  the  open  secret  of 
good  memory  also.  By  concentration  I  mean 
using  energy  toward  obtaining  an  outer  picture 
to  hang  on  the  inner  wall  of  mind.  I  get  it  any- 
how "by  hook  or  crook";  I  will  have  it;  if  not 
honestly,  then  dishonestly;  if  not  honorably  from 
conventional  standpoint,  then  dishonorably.  It 
is  mine  because  I  have  set  my  heart  upon  it ;  that 
is,  I  am  emotionally  bewitched  after  it— passion- 
ately craving  it.  I  bore  it  with  eyes;  I  pierce 
through  and  through  it ;  I  feel  it  with  the  tentacles 
of  my  brain;  I  hear  it  with  my  inner  ears,  and 
catch  its  rankness  or  its  perfume.  I  am  enrap- 
tured, enamored  and  horribly  in  love  with  it;  my 
full  being  is  reaching  out  toward  it,  my  utter  soul 
is  fixed  upon  it.  This  is  concentration— imagina- 
tion. How  many  of  us  I  wonder  are  equal  to  such 
frenzy?  Yet  without  this  intense  emotion  of  con- 
centration, this  passionate  clutching  and  mental 
grappling  with  the  thing  desired,  we  are  not  art- 
ists and  in  ordinary  parlance  have  no  imagina- 
tion. Perhaps  I  should  qualify  this.  All  living 
creatures  have  the  image  making  power,  but  only 
a  few  possess  a  rich  and  powerful  imagination. 

The  law  cannot  be  laid  down  too  strenuously, 
that  unless  you  can  concentrate  you  cannot  create 
for  yourselves   "mansions    in    Heaven."      That 


122  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

inner  world  of  yours  will  be  peopled  with  ghosts 
rather  than  with  vitalized,  dominating  beings. 

Imagination  in  life  has  its  fixed  values.  First 
and,  foremost,  you  have  imagination  or  you  could 
not  go  on  as  an  individual.  So  primarily  its  use 
is  to  permit  you  the  right  of  special  entity,  as  so 
and  so— cat,  dog,  horse,  cow,  man.  You  have 
parcelled  yourself  off,  and  if  one  person  you  are 
certainly  not  another.  You  have  sufficient  form- 
making  power  to  distinguish  thing  from  thing, 
and  to  deal  with  life  in  terms  of  specialization. 
Particulars  have  worth  to  you  in  proportion  to 
the  assets  of  your  imagination.  Therefore  the 
first  value  placed  upon  the  image-making  power 
is  the  possibility  through  it  of  life  itself.  Eight 
at  this  point  a  great  gulf  is  fixed  between  the 
genius  and  the  common  man.  By  a  genius  I  mean 
one  who  can  concentrate  persistently  and  there- 
fore visualize  and,  necessarily,  remember;  one  that 
uses  energy  greedily,  emotionally,  intellectually, 
and  brings  the  outside  world  inside  his  mentality, 
thrusting  it  forth  again  under  the  guise  of  revivi- 
fication and  therefore  creation.  Between  this  gen- 
ius and  the  common  unimaginative  man,  as  I 
before  said,  is  a  great  gulf  fixed  but  certainly  not 
one  impassable.  It  is  a  daring,  difficult  thing  to 
try  to  cross  it,  but  if  one  can  endure  the  nervous 
shock  of  depth  and  darkness,  isolation  and  still- 
ness, almost  utter  blankness,  he  may  get  over. 
The  outside  is  not  easily  stolen  and  transferred 
to  the  inside  and  retained  there  in  clear-cut  form. 
The  brigand  who  dares  the  attempt  is  bound  to 
risk  something  and  pay  an  exorbitant  figure  in 


VALUE  OF  THE  IMAGINATION  IN  LIFE  123 

the  act  of  readjustment.  Often  his  very  sanity- 
goes  in  with  the  bargain— his  friends,  his  repu- 
tation, his  conscience,  his  health.  For  a  man  to 
steal  the  face  of  a  friend,  loot  vast  stretches  of 
landscape,  capture  the  real  water  of  a  sea,  the 
genuine  blue  of  a  sky,  the  actual  atmosphere  in 
toto,  the  innermost  "feel"  of  things— this  whole- 
sale, almost  diabolic  appropriation,  this  utter, 
divine  greed,  is  well  nigh  ruinous  to  his  mental 
balance.  He  pays  an  enormous  price  for  para- 
dise—and sometimes  he  gets  it. 

When  as  an  artist  you  go  after  the  soul  of  an 
object  and  ravish  it  and  bring  it  home  into  your 
brain,  you  take  your  chances.  Possibly  you  have 
wedded  Eve  before  the  fall— possibly  after.  The 
serpent  may  have  seduced  her,  and  her  progeny 
may  be— "well,  never  mind!"— you,  the  genius, 
have  played  with  fire,  and  possibly  are  burned. 

But  it  is  characteristic  of  him  whose  imagina- 
tion is  intensive  and  creative  power  virile,  that 
with  all  its  beauty,  horror,  delight  and  suffering, 
he  prefers  his  live,  energized  world  to  the  mere 
dead  level  mirage  that  constitutes  the  dream  land 
of  the  ordinary  individual.  Yet  the  value  of  his 
imagination  in  life  is  somewhat  the  same  after 
all  as  is  that  of  the  clod. 

As  the  commonest  individual  existence  hinges 
on  the  image-making  power,  so  the  uncommon 
life  of  the  great  visualist  depends  on  the  fullness 
of  this  gift.  He  is  rich,  to  be  sure,  but  his  coin 
is  from  the  same  mint  as  that  of  the  poor.  Added 
to  this  he  has  stocks  and  bonds,  houses  and  lands, 
principalities,  servants,  slaves ;  a  harem  of  beauty, 


124  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

and  alas,  dungeons,  sewers,  underground  pas- 
sages, debris,  dirt,  grime.  Nevertheless,  he  is  rich. 
Like  old  Stamboul,  his  minarets,  domes  and  mos- 
ques tower  over  his  squalid  streets,  and  for  every 
barking  cur  in  the  alleys  of  his  mind  the  caique 
floats  in  and  out  on  the  Bosporus  of  his  soul; 
for  every  leprous  native  of  his  squalid  land  of 
dreams  a  ship  glides  round  the  waters  of  a  mys- 
tic Golden  Horn.  The  word  value  as  applied  to 
his  exuberant  imagination  might  better  be 
changed  to  values.  He  may  be  a  ''poor  devil" 
of  an  artist,  a  down-at-the-heel  dreamer,  without 
a  dime  or  a  bank  book,  but  he  is  a  producer  for 
all  that.  No  imagination  is  truly  such  that  fails 
to  create,  that  is,  gives  forth  again.  That  which 
was  purloined  sees  daylight  once  more  as  a  new 
thing,  touched  up  by  the  thief  with  the  divine 
afflatus  of  himself. 

There  is  no  pronounced,  unusual  merit  in  a 
celibate  or  impotent  imagination.  A  brain  stuffed 
full  with  images  that  cannot  get  out  is  a  crazy 
brain.  The  divine  imagination  ceases  to  be  such 
without  breathing  room  and  co-ordination,  and 
becomes  instead  a  hell,  alive  with  monstrous  forms 
that  in  their  struggle  with  each  other  melt  to 
formlessness  and  resolve  at  last  into  blank  vacuity 
before  the  horrified  eyes  of  their  creator. 

The  real  visualist,  the  true  magician,  is  inevit- 
ably a  creator.  The  only  newness  that  he  gives 
the  world  is  the  inevitable  stamp  of  himself  as 
himself  on  all  that  he  brings  forth.  He  has 
ravished  the  soul  out  of  the  object  he  abducted, 
and  welded  it  onto  his  own  in  a  passion  of  heat 


VALUE  OF  THE  IMAGINATION  IN  LIFE  125 

that  must  of  necessity  bring  forth  results.  These 
results  burst  the  shell  of  his  brain,  stimulate  his 
fingers,  his  eyes,  his  voice,  and  lo!  the  outer  world 
realizes  a  new  and  wonderful  thing,— a  great  pic- 
ture, a  great  poem,  a  great  song.  The  equation  is 
struck,  the  thief  has  squared  accounts,  the  price 
has  been  paid.  A  Christ  is  born,  a  miracle  is  per- 
formed, and  God  is  justified. 


ESSENTIALS  OF  A  PHILOSOPHIC 

LIFE. 

First  and  foremost,  reticency  or  a  cautious 
tongue  is  essential  in  philosophy.  The  preachy, 
proselyting  person  is  rarely  the  philosopher.  The 
man  with  the  "gift  of  talk,"  fond  of  poses,  is 
seldom  inherently  a  sage.  A  real  philosopher 
often  has  disciples  who  are  drawn  to  him  by  a 
certain  mental  gravitation.  He  is  harboring  a 
jewel,  and  the  flash  of  it  they  are  determined  to 
set  eyes  on.  Or  perhaps  he  has  secreted  a  key 
in  some  hidden  pocket  of  himself  which  a  sly 
thief  is  bound  to  pick.  Possibly  he  has  a  solvent 
for  life's  woes,  a  balm  for  its  wounds,  and  certain 
injured  persons  are  determined  to  get  the  recipe. 
Maybe  under  the  moon  he  gathers  herbs  and  be- 
comes to  the  eyes  of  curiosity  a  medical  Paracelsus 
in  search  of  life's  elixir.  Anyhow  there  is  some- 
thing concealed  in  the  true  philosopher  that 
nevertheless  reveals  itself  in  a  form  of  power 
which  excites  the  emulation  of  those  who  hang 
upon  his  skirts.  "He's  got  something,"  they 
say;  "yes,  he  has  truly  got  something."  There 
is  nothing  quite  so  exasperating  to  another  as  the 
fellow  who   "has  got   something."     What   that 


ESSENTIALS  OF  A  PHILOSOPHIC  LIFE  127 

"  something"  is  they  have  no  idea,  but  it  is  "  some- 
thing," and  they  want  ''one  just  like  it." 

When  a  man  has  really  and  truly  "got  some- 
thing" that  others  hound  him  for,  he  is  probably 
a  philosopher.    Certainly  he  has  one  of  the  philo- 
sophic essentials,  and  that  is  reticence.    Look  back 
in  history  and  you  will  find  that  the  great  teachers 
were  often  hermetic,  giving  out  or  withholding 
as  judgment  dictated.    I  do  not  imagine  Socrates 
announced  himself  with  bell-ringing,  like  a  fruit 
peddler.     In  his  rank  earnestness  he  was  often 
loquacious  and  a  great  talker,  but  that  was  be- 
cause he  was  in  love  with  his  subject  and  not  with 
himself.     The  pretender  to  the  throne  of  philo- 
sophy   is    most    assuredly  in  love  with  himself. 
Kant  rarely  left  Konigsberg,    though    his    fame 
spread  from  the  Baltic  to  the  far  West.    Though 
self-assured  and  positive,  he  knew  how  to  hold 
his  tongue.     Schopenhauer  found  life  so  "tick- 
lish" that  he  brooded  over  it  like  a  hawk.    Sar- 
castic as  a  parrot,  he  was  nevertheless  more  like 
an  owl,  and  when  he  fully  committed  himself  he 
certainly  had  something  to  say.     Spencer  was  a 
man  of  words  and  reiterations,  but  every  sentence 
had  intrinsic  value,   and  his  verbosity    was    a 
mighty  wedge  that  split    and    disorganized    old 
conditions.    He  was  sufficiently  reticent  to  keep 
himself  to  himself  and  talk  from  principles  and 
data  rather  than  personalisms.    Jesus  was  a  very 
well  of  secrets,  giving  cautiously  his  great  form- 
ulas, often  veiling  them  in  parable,  using  the  fad 
of  His  time,  the  fable,  as  a  shell  for  His  kernel  of 
truth.    Gautama  gave  out  to  the  ignorant  class  a 


128  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Hinayana  philosophy  of  many  rules  and  mandates, 
holding  in  reserve  the  mighty  "Mahay ana"  for 
him  only  who  could  understand.  As  with  Jesus, 
so  with  the  Buddha;  the  eyes  and  ears  of  their 
disciples  made  all  the  difference. 

Now  let  us  see  how  a  pretender  in  philosophy 
manages.  The  sun  heralds  himself  with  the  vir- 
gin dawn,  but  the  fakir  carries  before  him  a  shield 
of  blazing  brass  and  announces  his  arrival  with 
a  "tom-tom."  "I  am  coming,  I  have  arrived," 
he  says;  "I'm  as  secret  as  the  grave.  I've  got 
something,  too.  Pay  me  a  dollar  and  it  is  yours." 
He  is  an  auctioneer,  and  sells  his  mental  wares 
to  the  highest  bidder.  Pretending  to  hermeticism 
he  is  open  at  all  times  to  approach,  and  takes 
bribes  brazenly;  in  fact,  advertises  for  them  right 
and  left.  ' '  The  greatest  on  earth, ' '  he  nevertheless 
has  cheap  days  when  he  reduces  his  hundred-cent 
fee  to  twenty-five.  Now  you  cannot  bribe,  brow- 
beat or  bully  a  real  philosopher,  nor  will  he  flat- 
ter you.  His  reticence  is  not  obstinacy;  it  is  duty. 
There  are  some  things  he  has  no  business  to  tell; 
there  are  times  when  he  cannot  consistently  speak; 
and  when  he  holds  his  tongue,  he  holds  it. 

Reticence  then  is  one  of  the  essentials  of  a  phil- 
osophic life.  Why?  Because  the  truth  is  a  "two 
edged"  weapon  and  a  sage  is  not  likely  to  play 
with  it.  Once  I  saw  a  Japanese  Buddhist  Bonze 
draw  a  short  sword,  with  a  keen  blade,  its  whole 
length  on  his  tongue,  but  before  he  performed  this 
feat  he  was  sure  of  his  nerve.  Jesus  revealed  His 
secrets  to  the  nervy,  the  brainy,  the  well-balanced; 
but  to  the  world  He  spoke  in  parables. 


ESSENTIALS  OF  A  PHILOSOPHIC  LIFE  129 

Another  essential  of  a  philosophic  life  is  con- 
sistency. First  the  truth  promulgated  and  lived 
by,  must  be  true  to  itself;  next  it  must  be  borne 
out  by  practice.  It  is  odd,  to  say  the  least,  for  a 
man  to  discourse  in  persuasive  tones  on  the  value 
of  a  self-contained  spirit,  and  later  swear  at  his 
wife.  To  preach  healing  and  go  home  and  be 
sick,  to  uphold  chastity  and  marry  into  lewdness, 
to  recommend  fasting  and  gorge,  to  advocate 
temperance  and  drink  alcoholized  bitters,  is  rank 
inconsistency,  and  not  the  way  of  a  philosopher. 
In  fact,  the  sage  seems  rather  worse  than  he  really 
is;  his  badness  is  apt  to  be  on  the  surface.  He 
is  often  gruff,  impolite,  and  unconventional,  but 
within  he  is  white,  that  is,  striving  with  all  his 
might  to  live  up  to  his  convictions.  He  is  often 
like  a  street  digger,  rather  slimy  to  the  eye,  but 
inside  abnormally  healthy  and  clean  because  of 
his  honest  activity. 

The  philosopher  has  to  fight  his  way,  and  often 
has  a  rough-house  exterior,  but  his  muscles  are 
tough  as  pine  knots  and  his  heart  as  rhythmic  as 
a  Buddhist  bell. 

That  reminds  me  that  another  essential  of  the 
philosophic  life  is  the  big  back  brain  and  the 
power  to  fight.  A  philosopher  never  "  takes 
water"  nor  shows  a  white  flag.  Obstinate?  Yes, 
and  no.  Not  contentious  for  the  sake  of  it,  but 
from  inborn  conviction.  Of  course,  he  is  a  peace- 
lover,  but  the  price  of  peace  is  often  a  fray.  He 
never  goes  round  with  "a  chip  on  his  shoulder'' 
spoiling  for  battle;  he  is  simply  a  defender  and 
belongs  to  that  order  of  chivalry  that  is  up  in 


130  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

arms  for  the  honor  of  truth.  Truth  to  him  is  a 
woman,— she,  and  he  is  her  knight.  His  heart  as 
well  as  his  head  is  offered  in  her  defense. 

This  being  so,  courage  is  undoubtedly  an  essen- 
tial to  the  philosophic  life.    But  is  there  no  per- 
sonalism  in  it?  you  ask.    Is  the  philosopher  for- 
ever hustling  for  abstractions  f    Yes,  there  is  per- 
sonalism.    Even  truth  takes  form  in  his   eyes. 
Sometimes  she  is  his  beloved    land,    his    people 
under  the  guise  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty,  and  the 
philosopher  is  a  patriot.     Sometimes  she  is  a  city, 
an  Athens,  and  your  philosopher  serves  Minerva 
on  the  Areopagus.    Sometimes  it  is  a  sacred  scroll, 
a  parchment,  written  over  with  finalities,  beyond 
dispute,  exact  formulas  that  there  is  no  gainsay- 
ing; and  your  philosopher  stands  or  falls  in  its 
defense.     Sometimes  it  is  progressive  science— 
hard,  cruel,  true— and  your  philosopher  squares 
his  shoulders  and  marches  by  its  side.    Sometimes 
it  is  Law,  unbending,  rigid,  and  your  philosopher 
sets  his  jaw  and  stands  hard  by.     Sometimes  it 
is  Art,  and  your  philosopher  swerves  not  a  hair's 
breadth  from  the  task  assigned.    Sometimes  it  is 
the  "poor  and  needy"  and  your  philosopher  be- 
comes as  one  of  them  with  no  place  to  lay  his 
head.    Personalism!    Your  philosopher  is  always 
a  person,  and  deals   with   personifications   from 
start  to  finish. 

Now  I  am  about  to  say  something  startling. 
One  of  the  supreme  essentials  of  a  philosophic  life 
is  emotion.  A  philosophic  head  without  heart  to 
balance  is  more  dangerous  to  humanity  than  an 
aeroplane.    It  rides  supremely  over  the  woes  of 


ESSENTIALS  OF  A  PHILOSOPHIC  LIFE  131 

others,  indifferent  for  the  time  being  to  the  clod 
and  its  miseries.  To  realize  the  mathematics  of 
a  problem,  social  or  otherwise,— to  get  at  the 
inherent  rectitude  snuggled  like  a  kernel  in  the 
shell  of  the  ten  commandments,  and  not  kindle  to 
them  emotionally,  is  monstrous.  Energy  has 
heat;  without  energy  the  inherency  and  initiative 
of  a  thing  or  principle  is  dead.  No  matter  how 
prettily  the  social  laws  clear  up  in  the  mind  of 
the  thinker,  proving  their  efficiency  by  the  per- 
petual power  of  adjustments  in  combination,  if 
this  same  thinker  has  no  feeling,  no  love  for  the 
beauty  of  such  possible  poise  and  balance,  he  is 
not  a  philosopher,  and  lacks  one  of  the  essentials 
of  a  philosophic  life.  And  this  is  a  touchstone 
by  which  you  can  detect  values  and  distinguish  a 
fakir  from  a  sage.  A  pretender  may  weep  when 
he  explains  his  philosophy,  but  more  likely  his 
tears  are  flowing  because  the  cash  box  at  the  door 
of  his  lecture  room  is  sparsely  filled,  than  from 
emotion  over  the  beauty  of  the  so-called  truth  he 
expounds.  He  has  strained  his  eyes  so  hard  for 
a  glitter  of  coin  that,  whether  or  no,  they  shed 
tears.  "Jesus  wept."  There  is  no  account  or 
laconic  statement  that  "Jesus  smiled."  And  yet 
I  presume  He  even  laughed.  Emotion  consisting 
entirely  of  tears  is  nauseous.  The  sense  of  humor 
is  an  essential  to  the  philosophic  life.  The  sun 
is  the  real  thing;  shadows  depend  on  the  sun,  but 
the  sun  is  quite  independent  of  the  shadows.  The 
weeping  prerogative  in  humanity  is  the  special- 
ist's own.  Things,  as  things,  stand  up  and  hide 
the  sun,  and  shadows  lie  prone  at  their  feet.    But 


132  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

humor  is  the  very  sun  itself  laughing  among  the 
branches  and  between  the  leaves  of  ''things  in 
themselves"  so  utterly  independent  of  them  that 
there  is  a  universalism  about  it  that  is  a  dis- 
carnate  joy.  A  puritan  philosopher,  with  a  Jap- 
anese sigh,  a  hollow  cheek  and  prim  lip— unless 
he  laughs  inside  and  makes  a  joke  of  his  exterior- 
is  after  all  but  a  pretender  to  the  throne  of  the 
sage.  He  is  simply  "one  long  drawn  shadow," 
egotistic  enough  to  imagine  himself  endowed  with 
potency  to  put  out  the  sun.  Thank  heaven  that 
shades  are  not  self-energizing,  and  that  the  humor- 
ous Sun  uses  them  as  foils,  and  foils  only  to  his 
transcendent  brightness. 

Another  essential  to  a  philosophic  life  is  chas- 
tity, and  any  priest  of  any  cult  who  secretly 
preaches  free  love,  obscenity,  or  phallic  worship 
as  such  under  the  guise  of  hygiene,  sun  baths,  etc., 
has  no  possibility  of  living  a  philosophic  life.  The 
distribution  of  energy  is  at  the  base  of  the  sex 
question,  and  that  teacher  who  authorizes  a  waste 
of  this  precious  commodity,  or  rather  its  misappli- 
cation, is  not  in  the  narrow,  straight  path  of 
philosophy. 

Another  essential  to  the  philosophic  life  is  self- 
sacrifice,  or  rather,  self-preservation.  The  self 
given  up  is  the  self  found;  the  self  laid  down  is 
the  self  upraised.  This  is  not  sentimentality,  it 
is  the  law  of  energy  transformed.  The  self  is 
many  sided.  The  unit  of  self  contains  within  it 
the  many  of  selves.  But  who  ever  heard  of  a 
fakir  giving  up  anything,  even  one  of  his  many 
selves,  to  gain  the  supreme  reward?     The  fakir 


ESSENTIALS  OF  A  PHILOSOPHIC  LIFE  133 

specializes  on  his  ego— his  ego.  No  other  ego  is 
taken  into  consideration  except  as  coin  is  in  its 
vicinity.  The  fakir  is  after  money  first  and  noto- 
riety second.  He  bleeds  the  poor,  by  promises 
of  wealth.  "Send  me  a  dollar,"  he  says,  "by 
next  post,  and  I  will  show  you  how  to  make 
twenty."  And  sometimes  he  does.  The  motive 
of  this  pretender  to  unheard  of  powers,  however, 
is  "get  rich  quick"— "hit  or  miss"— it  doesn't 
matter.  The  object  of  the  true  philosopher  is  to 
prove  the  verities  and  practice  on  the  principles; 
that  is,  really  become  what  people  think  he  is. 
When  they  say  "he  has  got  something,"  he  wants 
to  make  good. 

But  you  ask,  what's  the  use  of  it  all?  Doesn't 
the  truly  wise  man  pay  too  big  a  price  for  his 
wisdom?  Does  it  really  bring  happiness?  In 
answer,  I  would  say  that  he  pays  well  no  doubt; 
he  lays  abnormal  passion,  greed,  wicked  selfish- 
ness, fear,  an  evil  tongue,  love  of  notoriety,  on 
the  altar  of  philosophy  and  sets  fire  to  them.  In 
return  he  gets  courage,  a  certain  lofty  indifference 
to  public  opinion,  some  "dead  sure"  formulas 
to  live  by,  and  ultimately  power.  Now  each  in- 
dividual must  decide  for  himself  whether  the 
flame  is  worth  the  candle,  whether  the  fire  of 
energy  is  a  good  exchange  for  the  body  of  desire. 
No  person  is  obliged  to  be  a  philosopher.  There 
is  no  law  that  can  whip  him  into*  line  and  force 
him  to  travel  the  narrow  way  of  the  sage.  Truly 
wise  men  are  not  proselyters,  taking  a  human 
being  by  the  coat  collar  and  yanking  him  into  the 
fold.    "Fishermen  of  men"  perhaps  they  are,  but 


134  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

there  is  so  much  good  bait  on  their  hook  that  it 
is  harmless  to  him  who  bites. 

The  essentials  of  a  philosophic  life  are  positive ; 
in  fact,  in  strict  philosophy  (unlike  religion)  there 
are  no  non-essentials.  That  which  is  not  essen- 
tial is  irrespective  of  philosophy. 


CONSTELLATIONS. 

As  constellations  refer  primarily  to  clusters  of 
stars,  used  figuratively  in  regard  to  persons  they 
should  necessarily  be  brilliants  with  power  to 
flash  and  scintillate.  Groups  of  poets,  scientists, 
artists,  thinkers,  might  well  make  up  a  peopled 
constellation.  Probably  there  would  be  a  fiery 
sun,  or  several  for  that  matter,  dominating  the 
lesser  lights,  even  down  to  the  little  asteroids. 

Once  belonging  to  a  human  constellation  it  is 
hard  to  break  from  it.  The  attractive  power  of 
the  genius  who  heads  it  is  as  binding  as  gravita- 
tion. Were  I  advocating  reincarnation,  I  should 
say  that  human  constellations  fall  together  in 
groups  periodically  from  life  to  life.  Were  I 
teaching  evolution  I  should  say  that  certain 
evolved  factors  embodied  in  human  bodies  fall 
together  by  the  law  of  affinity,  occult  chemistry 
supplying  the  motif  to  constellate.  Were  I  preach- 
ing the  ordinarily  accepted  tenet  of  creation, 
I  should  again  posit  mental  sympathy  through 
congruity  of  taste  as  a  sufficient  reason  for  the 
grouping  of  human  stars.  So  it  does  not  matter 
which  premise  I  take  as  the  cause  of  like  seeking 
like  and  opposite  attracting  opposite,  the  fact 
stands  however  it  is  founded. 

People  fall  together  in  groups,  brilliant  people 


136  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

especially.  Whether  expert  thieves  or  expert 
divines,  infernal  liars  or  dazzling  saints,  the  fact 
that  they  can  dazzle  constellates  them  under  the 
spell-binding  gleam  of  their  central  sun.  Lucifer 
was  a  star  angel  and  he  fell  headlong  through 
heaven,  but  continues  to  shine  in  hell,  neverthe- 
less, the  brilliant  dazzler  of  a  flashing  group. 

The  good  or  evil  expressed  through  a  constel- 
lation is  generally  indicated  by  its  central  sun. 
He  may  be  an  old  red  or  yellow  star  burning  with 
the  fires  of  diabolism,  but  while  he  burns  and  has 
fuel  he  is  bound  to  have  a  group  of  the  lurid  ones 
about  him  reflecting  the  lustful  coloring  of  him- 
self. He  may  be  a  young  blue  sun  tinted  to  match 
the  heaven  in  which  he  lives,  or  white  within  and 
without  like  a  diamond  of  first  water,  and  other 
stars  will  cluster  around  him  reflecting  purity  and 
clarity  of  his  heavenly  brightness.  "Whatever  the 
constellation,  whether  evil  or  good,  it  is  brilliant 
and  true  to  itself  and  master.  An  all-pervading 
spirit  feeds  its  fires,  a  unified  motif  strikes  the 
match,  aim  and  idea  pour  in  the  fuel. 

The  eyes  of  the  persons  making  up  a  special 
group  flash  with  the  same  light;  it  may  be  lurid, 
it  may  be  keen,  it  may  be  divine,  but  it  is  the 
unified  gleam  of  the  special  constellation  to  which 
they  belong.  Imagine  a  group  of  Socialists,  all 
stars,  coming  together  because  they  must.  In  the 
eye  of  each,  in  the  expression,  is  the  identical 
menace  that  their  leader  wears.  Rebellion  gleams 
in  the  glances  of  a  group  of  revolutionists,  hate 
in  those  of  the  anarchists.  All  kickers  who  revolt 
at  the  present  state  of  things  have  the  fraternal- 


CONSTELLATIONS  137 

lodge  glance  that  marks  them  members  of  this  or 
that  constellation.  Artists,  those  who  have  fra- 
ternized under  a  master,  have  the  long  stare  that 
pronounces  them  concentrators.  You  know  their 
teacher  by  their  glance,  and  the  slight  scowl  be- 
tween their  brows.  Musicians  carry  about  with 
them  the  very  atmosphere  of  their  special  group. 
There  is  a  "general  something"  that  acts  as  an 
expose.  Members  of  secret  societies,  presumed  to 
be  as  hermetic  as  a  sealed  jar,  are  as  easily  seen 
through  as  is  its  glass.  Their  "air  of  secrecy" 
goes  along  with  them  and  betrays  the  very  lodge 
in  which  they  affiliate.  Eeligionists  and  philos- 
ophers have  faulty  backdoors  to  their  "sanctum 
sanctorum";  they  will  not  stay  shut,  and  the  flock 
of  sheep  that  make  up  their  special  herd  are 
known  and  ticketed. 

The  shine  in  a  constellation  inevitably  betrays 
it.  If  it  were  not  by  its  very  nature  made  up  of 
a  group  of  brilliants  it  might  remain  perpetually 
undiscovered.  There  are  people  working  and 
fraternizing  sub  rosa  in  societies,  but  they  are 
not  in  constellations.  The  law  of  affinity,  un- 
doubtedly applies  to  them  also,  but  being  irre- 
flective  the  world  is  but  little  wiser  in  regard  to 
them.  I  have  said  that  people  who  belong  in  this 
or  that  constellation  cannot  help  themselves.  Per- 
haps I  should  qualify  this  and  say,  certain  per- 
sons being  thus  and  so  must  of  necessity  find  their 
own,  that  is,  others  of  the  same  ilk.  But  why 
need  persons  be  so  and  so,  and  so  and  so?  Being 
a  brilliant  thief,  I  of  necessity  herd  with  thieves, 
but  why  be  a  thief  at  all?    The  first  initiative  in 


138  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

self  is  taken  by  self,  through  that  same  self's 
desire.  Desiring  to  steal,  I  fall  into  a  constella- 
tion of  thieves;  my  mind  and  the  other  minds  of 
the  den  run  together  in  liquid  brightness  which  is 
thievery.  If  I  desire  beauty  I  necessarily  frater- 
nize with  others  of  the  stamp  who  revel  in  beauty 
also.  My  soul  is  forged  with  those  others  who 
melt  as  I  do.  This  goes  to  show  that  I  may  pos- 
sibly free  myself  from  a  constellation,  good  or 
evil,  by  changing  the  initiative  desire;  but  while 
I  liberate  my  future  life  to  some  extent  from  the 
associations  of  the  group,  I  cannot  liberate  the 
past  nor  get  rid  of  the  causes  growing  therefrom. 
If  I  have  once  truly  been  one  with  a  constellation, 
a  star  cluster  of  brilliant  people,  good  or  evil,  it 
is  like  tearing  my  heart  out  to  divorce  it,  and 
only  by  change  of  desire  through  revolt  of  con- 
science can  it  be  done.  Where  the  conscience  does 
not,  can  not  revolt,  the  stars  in  the  group  being 
white  through  and  through,  nothing  save  a  dia- 
bolically evil  desire  fostered  on  carrion  and 
nursed  on  slime  can  cause  a  break. 

A  pure  order  may  have  a  viper  in  its  midst, 
and  should  it  escape  from  the  cluster  and  shine 
in  other  centers,  it  will  always  have  something  of 
divinity  about  it  to  tell  the  world  of  its  previous 
high  estate.  '  *  Once  a  gentleman,  always  a  gentle- 
man," though  dead  drunk  in  the  gutter.  The 
stamp  is  on  him  and  serves  to  make  his  fall  a 
monstrosity. 

One  may  well  ask  here,  if  it  is  possible  to  shine 
alone,  irrespective  of  constellations.  Yes  and  no, 
and  I  will  tell  you  why.    In  the  first  place  that 


CONSTELLATIONS  139 

which  makes  a  constellation  is  the  law  of  attrac- 
tion or  affinity.  A  constellation  is  not  an  organ- 
ized society  necessarily;  it  may  or  may  not  be. 
Groups  of  men  fall  together  in  certain  ages  and 
places,  but  there  is  perhaps  no  chosen  president, 
speaker  or  secretary  in  the  combination.  It  is 
neither  deliberately  organized  nor  is  it  acci- 
dental. There  is  a  deeper  law  beneath  this  prob- 
lem. When  a  Grant,  a  Sheridan,  a  Sherman  and 
a  Lincoln  come  forth  at  the  same  time  and  work 
in  harmony  to  save  a  country,  there  is  something 
farther  down  than  the  eye  can  reach  as  the  gist 
of  the  puzzle.  When  a  Longfellow,  a  Lowell,  an 
Emerson,  a  Thoreau,  an  Alcott,  a  Holmes,  a  Parker 
and  a  Phillips  appear  contemporaneously  and  stir 
up  the  dry  bones  of  crabbed  New  England,  there  is 
a  meaning  behind  it  that  the  ordinary  mind  does 
not  catch.  When  a  Shakespeare,  a  Ben  Jonson, 
and  others  of  the  Elizabethan  Age  place  bay 
leaves  on  their  own  heads,  there  is  a  question 
there  that  the  common  sense  man  has  to  ponder. 
When  Eolean  poets  singing  in  group  produce 
such  music  that  the  Lesbian  coast  is  echoing  it 
yet,  the  curious  psychologist  might  as  well  sit 
up  and  look  about.  When  inventors  come  con- 
temporaneously, and  congenial  thinkers  like 
Spencer,  Tyndall,  Romanes  and  Darwin  appear  in 
clusters,  it  becomes  a  puzzle  worth  considering. 
Environment  surely  has  much  to  do  with  it,  and 
the  waiting  ripeness  of  the  age.  The  peole  are 
ready  and  the  masters  appear.  At  another  time 
and  under  different  conditions  these  same  mas- 
ters might  be  in  hiding. 


140  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

The  secret  sides  of  a  constellation  are  the  bodies 
of  its  stars,  but  that  which  belongs  to  the  world 
is  the  flash  and  shine  of  them. 

Now  as  to  individual  splendor— the  isolated 
genius— he  is  there  in  his  constellation  as  surely 
as  some  big  sun  dominates  others  in  the  sky  above, 
and  his  isolation  and  selfhood  lie  not  in  lack  of 
company,  but  rather  in  the  aloofness  that  his 
greatness  necessitates.  He  is  alone  in  a  crowd,— 
in  the  center  among  his  own  disciples  or  followers 
he  is  still,  in  one  sense,  by  himself.  In  another, 
however,  he  is  one  with  them;  his  motif  is  their 
motive,  his  aim  theirs.  As  before  said,  the  same 
light  flashes  in  his  eyes  as  illuminates  theirs. 
The  spirit  of  the  body  is  one. 

Curious  people  will  ask  all  sorts  of  questions 
as  to  the  length  of  life  of  a  constellation;  if  the 
head  of  it  is  a  hypnotist,  if  he  rules  and  sub- 
jugates by  suggestion,  if  all  his  disciples  are 
negated  and  mere  puppets  in  his  hands,  if  in- 
fluence is  his  sly  weapon,  and  sophistry  his  van- 
tage point?  To  the  "lump  sum"  of  these  ques- 
tions I  answer  no.  Stars  are  individuals.  He  has 
a  weak  knowledge  of  the  human  will  who  claims 
that  it  can  be  permanently  dominated  by  a  mas- 
ter or  a  hypnotist.  A  so-called  master  could  not 
for  an  instant  claim  the  name  if  he  attempted  an 
unfair  control.  The  master  rests  on  principles, 
and  principles  are  mightily  impersonal  as  regards 
partiality,  selectivity,  domination.  To  be  sure 
there  is  a  law  of  selectivity,  but  the  law  per  se  is 
impartial. 

No,  the    members    of    a    constellation,    people 


CONSTELLATIONS  141 

entitled  to  flame  and  shine  because  of  their  vital 
energy— bad  though  they  may  be,  or  good— are 
not  easily  hypnotized  in  the  revolting  sense.  The 
persons  who  make  it  up  are  too  positive  for  nega- 
tion and  submission  to  a  tyrant  head.  Fight 
among  themselves  they  may,  but  no  one  of  a  con- 
stellation makes  a  doormat  of  himself  for  others 
to  walk  over. 

As  to  the  length  of  life  of  a  constellation,  the 
question  is  self-settling.  If  the  theory  of  rein- 
carnation be  proved  to  be  a  truth,  a  group  of 
humans  may  appear  and  shine  periodically,  age 
after  age.  If  one  short  life  is  all  man  has  on 
earth,  by  the  law  of  affinity  groups  and  herds  of 
congenial  souls  would  get  together  just  the  same. 
Whether  the  time  of  a  constellation  is  short  or 
long  does  not  prohibit  its  strength  and  adjustabil- 
ity. In  fact,  all  things  equal,  it  would  probably 
remain  intact  indefinitely  unless  outside  factors 
served  to  break  it  up.  Inherently  it  is  true  to  it- 
self, and  therefore  by  its  nature  perpetual.  Its 
breaking  up  even  from  the  point  of  external  ex- 
perience by  death  and  disintegration  is  not  in 
reality  its  destruction,  for  though  the  body  van- 
ish, the  individual  spirits  that  animated  it  with 
one  aim  or  motif  are  in  some  form  of  life  contin- 
uing in  close  communion. 


WHY  WOMEN  ARE  SLY. 

Women  are  subtle  and  sinuous  in  their  ways 
and  dealings.  They  rarely  take  the  short  cut  and 
line  of  least  resistance,  but  meander  round  instead. 
They  feel  their  way  like  cats,  treading  gingerly, 
often  retreating  to  return  again  with  a  slight 
change  in  their  course.  They  act  as  though 
dreading  explosions,  gunpowder,  dynamite.  Their 
eyes,  called  modest,  are  really  anxious,  and  the 
far-off  look  which  poets  rave  over  is  the  problem- 
glance;  they  are  peering  into  a  maze.  They  are 
made  in  curves,  and  they  act  in  curves.  The  art 
of  evading  is  the  woman's  art.  They  argue  in 
circles,  not  because  they  fail  to  see  straight  ahead 
from  cause  to  effect,  but  rather  from  caution  and 
a  dread  of  committing  themselves.  Even  their 
frankness  (and  they  are  often  frank)  is  condi- 
tioned by  a  great  secrecy.  The  really  loquacious, 
apparently  blunt  woman  is  a  vast  storehouse  of 
unspoken  things.  "The  other  half  has  not  been 
told."  In  unloading  her  mind  she  reserves  some- 
thing. A  woman  without  reserves  is  a  woman 
lost.  A  woman  who  has  given  all  is  out  of  the 
market.  A  woman  with  no  mystery  in  her  make- 
up is  unpainted,  unpowdered,  and  altogether  too 
transparent  to  be  a  woman  at  all. 


WHY  WOMEN  ARE  SLY  143 

Why  all  this?  Glance  back  into  history  and 
study  human  evolution  by  means  of  data.  There 
was  a  time,  it  is  said,  when  women  were  Amazons; 
that  is,  strong  and  invincible;  but  that  era,  if  it 
ever  existed,  was  prehistoric.  The  legends  that 
introduce  us  to  these  Dianas  of  mythical  ages  and 
peoples  produce  no  data  worth  having.  In  his- 
toric times,  beginning  with  Herodotus  and  our 
family  Bible,  we  find  out  a  great  deal  about  the 
status  of  woman.  Veiled— a  vast  majority  of 
them— or  kept  indoors,  behind  shutters,  they 
became  female  ' '  peeping  Toms, ' '  having  no  recre- 
ation but  gossip  among  themselves,  and  no  occu- 
pation save  that  of  vying  with  each  other  in  child- 
bearing.  In  a  sense  they  were  on  a  level  of  the 
more  prolific  animals.  Progeny  quantitatively 
was  the  ideal  they  were  forced  to  invoke.  A  bar- 
ren woman  was  a  monstrosity.  Probably  in  the 
beginnings  of  her  evolution  she  quite  agreed  with 
man  in  this  question;  having  no  way  of  developing 
her  brain,  her  energy  went  to  sex  and  motherhood, 
and  all  the  evil  as  well  as  the  good  that  travels 
with  it.  She  was  keen  in  her  own  experiences, 
intuitive,  jealous,  revengeful,  passionate,  abnorm- 
ally affectionate,  yet  from  love  of  excitement  and 
change,  treacherous  and  fickle.  Her  energy  flow- 
ing through  so  constricted  a  channel  was  danger- 
ous and  explosive;  her  methods  of  gaining  her 
ends,  for  the  same  reason,  sly  and  sinuous.  The 
fact  that  she  could  do  something  man  could  not, 
that  is,  bear  offspring,  gave  her  the  peculiar  ego- 
tism of  motherhood  from  which  she  has  not  yet 
entirely  freed  herself.    She  makes  capital  out  of 


144  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

the  fact  that  she  can  produce  progeny.  She  uses 
the  birth  pangs  as  a  bribe  with  judges  and  jury. 
She  manages  her  husband  with  the  same  seduc- 
tion. She  throws  glamour  over  her  lover  during 
the  courting  period  with  vague  hints  in  regard 
to  it.  She  glories  in  her  natural  martyrdom,  and 
uses  it  for  all  it  is  worth.  She  tells  her  sons  how 
she  suffered  in  bearing  them,  and  persuades  them 
into  the  straight  path  on  that  account.  She  gives 
her  daughters  a  formula  by  which  they  shall  some- 
time persuade  their  sons  also. 

Woman  is  really  so  shrewd  that  she  seizes  upon 
any  and  every  resource  that  shall  give  her  power. 
Poor  as  poverty  compared  with  man  in  her  ' '  ways 
and  means,' '  those  few  that  she  has  are  used  for 
all  they  are  worth.  Her  childbearing  capacity  is 
her  richest  asset.  In  every  conceivable  way  she 
makes  it  tell.  There  is  a  certain  amount  of  phys- 
ical suffering  parceled  out  to  her  through  the  dis- 
pensation of  the  Almighty  that  man  has  not  been 
afflicted  with,  and  her  nature  is  such  that  she  un- 
doubtedly prefers  it  to  the  painless  life  of  her 
husband.  It  is  better  capital  and  brings  larger 
interest.  Like  a  child,  she  trades  her  birth  pangs 
for  a  diamond  necklace  or  a  house  and  lot. 

Now  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  exceptional  indi- 
viduals of  the  feminine  sex,  but  of  woman  as  such. 
Her  weakness  is  her  strength,  and  she  knows  it. 
She  came  into  the  world  as  a  woman  simultane- 
ously with  man,  no  doubt,  more  powerful  than  he 
in  fruitfulness  and  weaker  than  he  in  her  capacity 
of  self-maintenance.  She  squares  up  for  her  extra 
capacity  with  her  extra  agony,  and  faces  man  with 


WHY  WOMEN  AEE  SLY  145 

her  eyes  on  a  level  with  his;  but  in  order  to  main- 
tain that  level  and  hold  her  place  of  equality,  she 
has  been  obliged  to  use  subterfuge.  Her  negative 
ways  are  sly  ways ;  her  ends  are  gained  by  round- 
about methods. 

Now  of  what  nature  is  this  man  who  faces  her 
so  levelly  1  Minus  one  power  that  is  hers,  namely, 
that  of  child-bearing,  he  nevertheless  gains  in 
physical  freedom.  All  roads  are  open  to  him  save 
one,— the  road  to  the  heaven  of  motherhood.  But 
few  ways  have  been  open  to  her  save  the  straight 
path  to  this  peculiar  paradise.  In  symbolism  she 
might  stand  for  Unity  or  singleness  of  aim,— the 
simple;  while  he  would  represent  Complexity,  or 
the  compound,— many.  I  am  refering  now  to  wo- 
man as  feminine  and  man  as  masculine.  But  as 
it  happens,  woman  though  such  is  also  an  indi- 
vidual, possessed  of  an  unsexed  element,  which  is 
strictly  mind  fired  by  ambition  and  curiosity;  no 
female,  even  the  most  slavish,  is  entirely  without. 
Many  women  are  more  intellectual  than  feminine, 
and  that  is  why  they  are  sly.  Having  other  de- 
sires to  gratify  besides  those  of  mere  sex  and 
motherhood,  and  formerly  as  a  rule  restricted  in 
almost  every  conceivable  way  in  so  doing,  they 
get  gratification  by  stealth,  and  the  ' '  stolen  kisses 
are  sweet." 

Man  enjoys  so  thoroughly  being  pre-eminent, 
he  has  dinged  into  her  ears  from  time  immemorial 
that  her  sphere  is  the  home.  She  has  but  one 
trade,  that  of  housekeeping;  one  duty,  that  of  wife 
and  mother.  To  be  sure  this  one  trade  of  hers 
is  a  vitally  complex  affair.    Inside  this  house 


146  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

where  she  is  supposed  to  reign,  she  must  in  real- 
ity be  "Jack  of  all  trades."  No  chef  on  a  salary 
of  ten  thousand  a  year  is  supposed  to  equal  her 
in  cooking.  "Home  cooking"  is,  should  and 
must  be  the  very  acme  of  the  cuisine  art.  Her 
husband's  stomach  is  the  most  sacred  thing  on 
earth,  his  heart  is  a  mere  bagatelle  in  comparison. 
She  is  not  only  cook  but  housemaid,  in  theory  if 
not  in  fact.  Her  hawkeye  must  be  ever  on  the 
alert  for  dust  and  disorder;  her  keen  nose  must 
be  equally  alive  to  scents  and  counter  scents;  her 
artist  temperament  must  continually  adjust  itself 
toi  color  and  sound.  Altogether,  she  is  cook, 
housemaid,  gown  designer,  artist,  cordial  hostess, 
bargainer,  manager,  economist— social,  political 
and  financial.  At  the  same  time  a  person  well- 
read,  up  to  date,  perfectly  robed,  companionable 
and  sympathetic  with  husband  and  children,  and 
never  on  any  account  short  tempered  even  to  the 
lifting  of  an  eyelash.  Yet  as  before  said,  she  is 
simply  wife  and  mother  according  to  the  final 
mandate  of  the  preacher  and  the  ultimatum  of  the 
husband.  I  do  not  pity  her  in  her  complexity  of 
home  life,  for  to  tell  the  truth  it  saves  her  indi- 
viduality intact.  To  be  simply  wife  and  mother 
and  nothing  more,  would  be  damning  to  any  ele- 
ment of  personality  that  might  be  hers.  She 
would  not  deserve  a  name  even,  had  she  not  dis- 
tinctive element  to  answer  to  it.  Women  might 
well  be  all  Marys,  or  Myras  or  Janes  had  they  not 
the  inside  house  life  to  develop  their  individual 
differences.  But  the  inherent  complexity  in  wo- 
man is  too  big  even  for  her  home  interior;  she 


WHY  WOMEN  AEE  ULY  147 

is  morbidly  anxious  to  get  outside  and  live.  She 
feels  the  call  of  the  sea,  the  sky,  the  far  spaces. 
The  city  lures  and  beckons— the  trades,  the  shops. 
Even  the  rougher  jobs  entice  and  stimulate.  She 
wants  to  fight,  to  write,  to  preach,  to  teach— to 
be  a  heroine,  a  missionary,  a  doctor,  a  lawyer. 
She  simulates  modesty  and  coquetry  to  wheedle 
men  into  letting  her  into  their  colleges  and  pro- 
fessions. She  studies  secretly  and  learns  things 
she  "ought  not  to  know."  She  nurses  her  baby 
once  too  often  each  day,  in  order  to  steal  the  time 
to  solve  a  problem  in  mathematics.  Her  curiosity 
is  fiercely  abnormal  along  all  lines  that  her  hus- 
band follows ;  she  wants  to  keep  up  with  him,  she 
will  keep  up  with  him,  and  if  there  is  no  open, 
above-board  way  to  so  do,  she  chooses  an  under- 
ground method.    This  is  why  she  is  sly. 

In  early  history,  devoted  to  motherhood,  she 
still  had  enough  other  traits  to  cause  her  to  be 
abnormally  curious.  Suppressed  and  enslaved 
she  became  both  explosive  and  treacherous.  Al- 
lowed more  latitude  today,  she  nevertheless 
brings  into  the  present  century  her  inherited  at- 
tributes and  continues  to  use  influence  to  accom- 
plish her  ends.  Now  what  is  the  meaning  of  the 
word  "sly"?  In  its  extreme  sense  it  is  "meanly 
artful;"  in  a  modified  sense  it  is  "cunning,  in- 
genious and  shrewd."  Woman  as  a  rule  is  not 
meanly  sly,  so  we  ignore  the  first  definition  and 
cling  to  the  second.  Her  slyness,  shrewdness  or 
artfulness,  if  it  be  a  fault,  is  really  not  hers  alone. 
By  the  nature  of  the  life  she  has  been  forced  to 
endure  through  the  centuries  she  could  not  very 


148  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

well  be  otherwise  and  have  a  life  worth  living. 
Who  then  is  to  blame?    It  is  partly  the  fault  of 
the  male,  her  companion,  and  partly  the  result  of 
her  necessary  motherhood.    Man,  aggressive,  com- 
pelling, selfishly  in  love  with  freedom  and  all  that 
pertains  thereto — a  monopolizer  by  his  very  na- 
ture—has by  every  possible  means  in  his  power, 
through  preaching,  teaching,  appealing  to  her  su- 
perstition, coercing,  bribing  and  dictating,  striven 
to  tie  woman  down  to  the  life  of  homekeeper, 
wife  and  mother,  and  that  only.     Ministers  and 
priests  are  forever  exhorting  her  to  use  influence, 
influence.    Her  whole  stock  in  trade,  they  tell  her, 
is  influence.    Would  a  woman  have  anything  de- 
sirable let  her  marshal  all  her  little  cupids  of  in- 
fluence and  get  it.    Does  she  want  a  ^Republican 
or  Democratic  President  to  rule  over  her  country, 
let  her  bring  to  bear  her  influence  on  her  husband, 
brothers  and  sons,  till  they  lose  their  individual- 
ized-clear-seeing  and  yield  to  her  persuasion.    It 
seems  to  the  short-sighted  a  more  effective  method 
than  the  ballot  every  time.     She  has  a  dozen  or 
more  votes  to  her  credit,  while  through  female 
suffrage  she  would  cast  but  one.     This  insidious 
preaching  by  pastors,  deacons  and  doctors  about 
woman's  influence  would  be  damnable  in  its  ef- 
fect if  it  were  not  so  ludicrous.    These  spiritual 
guides  are  really  telling  her  to  be  sly,  shrewd, 
persuasive— so  much  so  that  she  can  cajole  her 
male  friend  to  act  against  his  conscience  and  bet- 
ter judgment.    She  becomes  a  veritable  Eve,  and 
tempts  him  to  taste  of  a  certain  apple  that  she 
approves. 


WHY  WOMEN  AEE  SLY  149 

Truly,  men  are  too  manly  to  be  as  effectively 
influenced  as  they  pretend.  To  make  woman  feel 
that  she  has  a  godlike  power  in  that  of  influence, 
thus  preventing  her  from  continually  contend- 
ing for  her  so-called  rights  and  therefore  disturb- 
ing his  mental  equilibrium,  he  doctors  her  with 
these  sham  doses.  Nor  is  she  deceived.  They  are 
nothing  but  bread  pills,  and  she  knows  it.  Never- 
theless she  proceeds  to  take  him  at  his  word  and 
uses  her  influence  for  all  it  is  worth.  There  is 
a  charm  in  its  application,  it  gives  her  a  proxy 
power  and  a  forged  liberty,  which  is  sufficiently 
wicked  to  be  fascinating.  In  persuading  him  to 
go  her  way,  though  she  knows  that  nine  times 
out  of  ten  he  won't,  she  is  laughing  to  herself, 
because  he,  in  his  rank  honesty  thinks  she  is  in 
earnest.  He  knows  he  is  trying  to  dupe  her,  but 
he  never  dreams  that  she  is  trying  to  dupe  him. 
Her  attempt  at  slyness  succeeds,  his  fails.  She 
has  become  constitutionally,  hereditarily  sly,  be- 
cause of  her  motherhood  and  his  physical  power 
over  her;  but  he,  poor  soul,  cruelly  straightfor- 
ward by  nature,  attempting  her  methods  is  a 
transparent  failure.  The  balance  could  not  be 
struck  between  man  and  woman  and  equality  jus- 
tified were  this  not  so.  All  things  favor  him  as 
lord  and  master  save  one— the  shrewd  art  of  the 
negative.  The  negations  of  woman  are  sly  powers, 
which  enable  her  to  look  straight  into  his  eyes. 
In  time  this  fact  will  be  modified.  Never  can  she 
escape  the  prerogative  of  motherhood,  which  par- 
tially negatives  herself  and  life,  but  the  shuttle 
cock  play  indulged  in  through  the  ages  between 


150  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

herself  and  man,  is  likely  sooner  or  later  to  come 
to  an  end.  As  the  individual  in  her  dominates 
the  sex,  subterfuge  will  to  an  extent  subside. 


PKIVILEGED  PEOPLE. 

There  are  certainly  privileged  people,— why? 
Are  they  made  of  different  clay  from  others? 
Is  their  pedigree  royal?  Are  they  immune  from 
the  law  of  cause  and  effect  1  %  Are  they  gods 
and  goddesses?  Outwardly  they  appear  quite 
like  ordinary  humanity,— sometimes  a  little  below 
par.  Is  that  shabby  genteelness  of  theirs  a 
stamp  of  caste  and  exclusiveness,  and  are  they 
thereby  privileged?  Their  right  and  title  to  such 
presumptions  must  have  a  cause  somewhere,  but 
where? 

The  privileged  person  in  a  house,  any  house, 
has  many  prerogatives.  First  he  speaks  his  mind. 
Whether  it  be  permissible  on  all  occasions  to  ex- 
press oneself  verbally  is  questioned,  but  in  his 
case,  by  the  virtue  of  his  privilege,  he  is  made 
an  exception.  He  is  privileged  too  in  his  choice 
of  language.  He  indulges  in  strong  terms,  his 
tongue  is  sharp;  sarcasm,  pessimism  or  any  other 
ism  is  tolerated  in  his  case.  The  queer  thing 
about  it  is,  that  he  throws  stones,  but  no  one  ever 
thinks  of  retaliating.  His  house  is  not  made  of 
glass.  He  criticises  harshly,  indulging  in  adjec- 
tives and  superlatives  remorselessly,  and  woe  be 
to  any  one  who  presumes  to  answer  him  in  strong 


152  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

epithets.  He  is  in  quite  a  different  class  in  regard 
to  freedom  of  speech  from  that  of  those  whom 
he  addresses. 

The  reason  of  this  is  not  hard  to  find.  The 
privileged  person  is  tolerated  because  in  some 
manner  he  "makes  good"  and  hands  over  a  sur- 
plus to  humanity  which  the  unprivileged  indi- 
vidual does  not.  When  the  favored  one  is  good, 
he  is  so  very,  very  good  that  he  strikes  a  balance 
with  his  badness  and  maintains  a  sort  of  moving 
equilibrium  that  people  call  "fair."  When  he 
does  things  they  are  so  extraordinary  that  the 
world  forgives  his  chaotic  moments,  remember- 
ing all  the  time  that  he  serves  its  ends  rather 
more  than  he  injures  them,  and  some  indulgence 
must  be  dealt  out  to  him  in  order  that  he  keep 
on  doing. 

Right  here  let  me  insist,  that  any  person  not 
so  fortunate,  trying  the  methods  of  the  privileged 
person,  will  soon  find  to  his  great  disgust  that 
they  "don't  work."  Mankind  will  not  tolerate 
him  for  an  instant.  "What  can  he  do,"  they 
say,  "to  give  him  any  right  to  browbeat  us?  He's 
not  a  genius,  he's  no  wiser  than  we  are.  He'd 
better  look  out.  Let  him  once  try  to  fix  things, 
and  we'll  fix  him!" 

When  a  man,  then,  finds  himself  privileged, 
there  is  some  reason  for  it,  most  assuredly,  for 
the  world  is  inherently  selfish,  and  only  puts  up 
with  its  tyrants  because  they  are  serving  it  a 
good  turn.  A  privileged  child  in  a  family  is 
either  an  unusually  brilliant  infant  or  an  invalid. 
The  sick  are  always  more  or  less  privileged  by 


PRIVILEGED  PEOPLE  153 

the  nature  of  their  value.  The  prospect  of  losing 
the  invalid,  even  though  he  be  but  an  ordinary 
person,  serves  to  show  his  worth  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  filling  the  void  his  absence  will  make; 
therefore  he  is  humored  and  privileged.  The 
genius  is  most  inevitably  privileged,  even  more, 
he  is  pampered.  What  he  does  is  so  transcendent, 
that  what  he  is  is  winked  at.  He  may  break  all 
the  laws  of  the  decalogue,  and  yet  be  forgiven. 
He  can  browbeat  his  wife,  and  enjoy  an  affinity,— 
yes  two  of  therm  He  can  express  opinions  that 
put  the  gospels  to>  shame.  He  can  live  on  his 
friends  and  slander  his  enemies;  for  being  a 
genius  and  preparing  to  leave  something  behind 
him  that  the  world  must  forever  marvel  over, 
he  is  permitted  unusual  license.  Like  the  gods, 
immortal,  he  walks  over  earth  roughshod,  and 
earth's  inhabitants  get  down  and  kiss  his  foot- 
prints. But  let  the  non-genius  try  to  stride  about 
in  the  same  manner,  and  the  sovereign  of  justice 
will  transfix  him  before  he  has  gone  a  mile. 
There  are  sterling  reasons  behind  all  this.  The 
man  who  takes  must  give,  and  the  non-genius 
doesn't  pay  the  price  of  privileges,— "that  is 
why. ' ' 

A  beautiful  woman  is  always  privileged,  and 
she  knows  it.  Real  beauty— the  genuine  thing,  is 
uncommon,  and  is  a  source  of  supreme  delight. 
Any  person— a  man,  a  child,  especially  a  well- 
sexed  woman— who  can  radiate  beauty,  scatter 
it  before  her  and  behind  her  in  the  guise  of  charm 
and  fascination,  is  justifiably  privileged.  Any 
effort  on  her  part  to  preserve  that  beauty,  any 


154  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

sacrifice  on  the  part  of  her  friends  to  hold  her 
high  above  the  heads  of  others,  is  overlooked. 
She  gives  lavishly  and  takes  prodigiously,  and 
the  balance  between  herself  and  the  world  is 
struck.    She  is  privileged. 

Specialists  in  science  are  privileged  persons. 
We  excuse  their  grandiloquence  and  narrowness 
because  of  their  great  service.  An  eye  specialist 
will  tell  you  that  all  diseases  spring  from  a 
wrongly  focused  eye.  It  is  really,  in  his  estima- 
tion, the  only  cause  of  suffering.  Set  your  line 
of  vision  properly  and  you  will  be  as  healthy 
as  Hebe.  You  laugh  in  your  sleeve,  and  getting 
a  good  pair  of  lenses  go  to  the  drug  shop  and 
dose  as  before,  forgiving  your  specialist  because 
of  his  skill  in  his  own  particular  calling. 

Another  physician,  of  narrow  but  keen  insight, 
announces  that  your  appendix  is  the  "imp  of 
the  perverse, "  that  without  it  you  would  be  as 
athletic  as  Diana.  Knowing  his  pronounced  skill 
you  overlook  his  idiosyncrasies  and  proceed  to 
the  blood  doctor  who  desires  to  administer  an 
"alterative"  at  once,  solemnly  asserting  that 
your  very  life  is  dictated  to  by  certain  corpuscles 
that  should  be  given  their  conge  on  the  spot. 

Your  dentist  tells  you  that  on  the  condition 
of  your  mouth  hinges  your  longevity,  and  being 
proud  of  your  new  gold  tooth  you  admit  his 
premise  to  his  face,  but  go  into  hysterics  behind 
his  back. 

Your  physical  culture  teacher  asserts  that  deep 
breathing  is  your  only  hope,  while  a  close  friend 
insists  that    your  one  chance    of  happiness  lies 


PEIVILEGED  PEOPLE  155 

in  mastication  or  a  prolonged  and  tantalizing 
grinding  of  your  food. 

Now  these  specialists  are  really  equal  to  things, 
in  one  way  or  another,  and  their  absurdities  are 
overlooked  because  of  the  good  they  do.  They 
are  privileged. 

There  are  occasions  when  even  an  ordinary 
person  becomes  privileged.  An  ignoramus  may 
rise  to  the  rank  that  entitles  him  to  special  con- 
sideration if  he  acts  as  guide  on  a  mountain 
pass,  or  through  an  unexplored  forest.  Being 
native  to  these  regions,  he  has  acquired  the  right 
of  occasional  privilege. 

About  the  privileged  person  himself  there  is 
something  to  say.  You  wonder  if  he  enjoys  exer- 
cising his  little  tyrannies,  browbeating  the  world 
because  the  world  cannot  get  on  so  well  with- 
out him.  Yes,  in  a  sense  I  believe  he  does; 
nevertheless  he  realizes  that  he  has  his  limit,  and 
lives  in  dread  of  over-stepping  it.  He  is  also*  in 
fear  of  other  privileged  individuals  who  by 
nature  of  their  acquired  rights  are  his  natural 
enemies.  One  privileged  person  rarely  gets  down 
on  his  knees  to  another,  that  is  certain.  Notice 
the  haughty  air  of  the  acknowledged  beauty  when 
she  sails  by  the  acknowledged  savant.  Notice 
the  sneer  on  the  lips  of  said  savant  as  he  weighs 
her  assets  with  his  own.  If  a  privileged  person 
is  tender-hearted  he  suffers  because  of  the  misery 
he  brings  about  through  the  exercise  of  his  pre- 
rogative. The  tears  of  his  wife  and  friends  flow 
at  his  sharp  words,  which  they  are  not  permitted 
to  resent  in  kind.    If  he  has  any  heart  he  cannot 


156  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

fail  to  react  from  the  results  of  his  own  selfish- 
ness. All  his  ultra  indulgences  outside  of  right 
and  law  have  inherently  within  them  their  own 
punishment.  His  privilege  never  extends  to  an 
exemption  from  that,  his  privilege  is  a  gift  from 
humanity  or  a  reward  for  some  favor  he  does 
for  mankind;  but  the  inherent  law  of  the  evil 
in  which  he  merges  himself  has  nothing  to  do 
with  special  licenses  and  spares  him  not  a  jot 
or  tittle  from  the  result  of  his  outrages.  What 
cares  the  law  for  his  genius  or  power  of  giving? 
Law  is  law,  and  shows  no  favor. 

So  the  privileged  man,  who  takes  to  himself 
two  wives  outside  the  bans— or  inside  either, 
who  sits  down  in  his  friend's  house  and  stays 
there,  sleeping  in  the  best  bed,  devouring  the 
best  food,  and  abusing  hospitality,— the  genius 
who  lives  wilfully  or  ignores  the  law  of  the  land, 
gets  his  just  deserts  from  law  itself,— privilege 
or  no  privilege.  "A  king  can  do  no  wrong," 
to  be  sure,  but  the  man  who  represents  the  king 
can  sin  like  Satan  and  burn  in  perdition.  No 
privilege  or  special  permit  can  save  him  from 
the  consequences  of  his  own  acts. 

Privileges  then,  sifted  down  to  this,  are  thrown 
in  with  the  exchange  between  parties  in  order 
to  square  a  deal.  That  is,  you  being  able  to  give 
certain  benefits  to  humanity  quite  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary, get  in  exchange  certain  possibilities  of  indul- 
gences quite  out  of  the  ordinary  also.  Now  there 
are  persons  who  could  have  privileges  and  do 
not  take  them.  They  rank,  however,  with  the 
thrice  great  and  are  not  in  the  same  category 


PKIVILEUED  PEOPLE  157 

with  the  subjects  of  this  paper.  The  people  com- 
bined are  headed  by  a  sort  of  invisible  Pope, 
wiho  sells  indulgences  to  those  who  lavish  favors 
upon  him;  but  the  stern  Judge  who  administers 
the  law  accepts  no  bribes  and  shows  no  partiality. 


PBOBLEMS. 

Why  are  there  great  financiers  if  the  problem 
of  money-making  is  not  itself  a  thing  of  interest  ? 
The  millionaire  is  surely  endowed  with  enough 
of  this  world's  goods  for  actual  comfort.  As 
well  might  I  ask,  why  do  men  play  chess?  The 
zest  in  living  is  the  fascination  of  the  problem. 
To  disentangle  a  puzzle  and  clear  up  a  mystery 
is  pre-eminently  satisfactory.  The  problem  is 
the  mental  grindstone  that  sharpens  the  mind  to 
a  clean  edge.  At  the  chessboard  of  life  sits  the 
financier  and  plays  the  game.  The  king  he  hopes 
to  checkmate  is  called  Money.  The  charm  of 
the  playing  is  greater  than  that  of  the  success; 
in  fact  the  problem  is  the  real  thing  and  the  solu- 
tion but  a  bagatelle. 

People  protest  and  rebel  continually  against 
the  difficulties  in  their  way,  the  uncertainties, 
the  distractions;  but  suppose  these  obstacles  were 
removed  suddenly  and  the  sea  of  life  reduced  to 
a  dead  level,— what  then?  Previous  complaints 
would  be  as  syren  echoes  compared  with  the  up- 
roar of  protest  that  would  batter  the  eardrums  at 
the  dead  monotony  of  such  a  condition.  Life  would 
be  insufferable  without  the  problem,  in  fact 
would  cease,  and  stagnation  would  reign  supreme. 


PROBLEMS  159 

The  lure  of  the  puzzle  is  the  charm  of  being.  It 
arouses  all  our  activities  in  the  attempt  at  a 
solution,  and  the  fury  of  endeavor  is  the  fullness 
of  being. 

The  man  who  falls  flat  before  opposition  and 
does  not  try  with  all  his  might  to  make  the 
most  of  it,  is  really  no  man  at  all,  but  a  thing 
unsexed  and  unequal  to  the  rich  experiences  of 
the  battle  of  life.  The  problem  of  maintaining 
my  body  equal  to  the  demand  of  my  soul  is 
interesting;  the  problem  of  establishing  a  body 
for  my  body,  that  is,  a  roof  over  my  head  and 
foundation  under  my  feet,  is  another  vital 
puzzle,  problem  of  clothes  for  my  back  inci- 
dentally going  with  it.  The  problems  of  fuel, 
climate,  food,  keep  men  busy  from  ' '  sun  up  to  sun 
down"  in  their  effort  to  solve  them.  The  prob- 
lems of  education,  race,  environment,  the  adapta- 
tion of  humanity  to  frigid,  torrid  and  temperate 
conditions  plunges  the  man  of  affairs  deep  in 
thought.  The  problem  of  supply  and  demand, 
social  and  economic  relations,— the  questions  of 
war,  peace,  commerce,  international  law,  tax 
legal  and  executive  brains  to  the  limit.  The 
problems  of  love,  hate,  equity,  caste,  the  puzzle 
of  the  passions,  the  sex  question,  the  horns  of 
the  dilemma— respectively  man  and  woman.  The 
problem  of  the  small,  the  problem  of  the  great, 
and  lastly  the  stupendous  problem  of  knowledge, 
inclusive  of  all  others  the  very  sphinx  of  life 
itself. 

Imagine  a  heaven  with  everything  settled,  com- 
plete, done,  if  you  can.     No  more  thinking,  no 


160  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

more  speculating,  no  more  wondering,  guessing, 
imagining,  fearing,— but  everything  shelved  and 
finished;  yourselves  before  the  throne,  with  no 
question  mark  stamped  on  you,— so  vastly  wise 
that  all  curiosity  lies  dead  within  you;  all  worlds 
conquered,  all  problems  solved.  Alas!  even  God 
could  not  endure  such  stagnation,  so  perforce 
he  made  Adam  and  Eve,  and  endowed  them  with 
freedom,  that  he  himself  might  have  a  question 
to  determine,  a  puzzle  to  work  out.  This  is  not 
sacrilege  but  verity,  for  by  no  possibility  could 
there  be  life,  the  other  name  of  which  is  action, 
without  the  element  of  obstacle  or  resistence  in- 
volved. Men  are  mostly  "kickers,"  not  realiz- 
ing that  when  they  turn  on  the  problems  of  their 
existence  and  revile  them,  they  are  condemning 
their  best  friends.  The  wholesome  anger,  with 
which  we  sometimes  attack  a  difficulty  is  not  to 
be  altogether  condemned.  "Our  blood  up"  we 
fight  hard,  and  having  cleared  our  path  find 
considerable  satisfaction.  Considerable,  I  say, 
but  certainly  not  supreme,  for  the  job  done  we 
at  once  look  about  for  another,  quite  unsettled 
until  we  "get  busy"  again.  No  healthy  man 
rests  long  and  gloats  over  his  laurels.  The  real 
fun  of  the  contest  was  the  battle  itself;  the 
reward  following  was  but  a  secondary  interest. 
Even  in  the  problem  of  love,  in  the  act  of  win- 
ning, a  man  is  intoxicated  by  the  west  wind 
blowing  off  the  shores  of  his  distant  elysium; 
having  won  he  settles  himself  comfortably,  but 
not  with  rapture,  to  inhale  the  appetizing,  odor- 
ous breezes  of  the  family  kitchen.     He  "builds 


PROBLEMS  161 

him  a  house,"  where  he  may  obtain  perfect 
harmony,  absolute  rest,  domestic  bliss  and  para- 
dise. While  constructing  this  future  haven  of 
delights,  he  is  superlatively  happy;  but  let  the 
house  be  finished,  himself  in  slippers  and  gown 
established  inside,  and  bliss  takes  wings,  his 
skylark  becomes  a  crow,  and  he  is  glum  and 
morose  with  disappointment.  He  eats  too  much, 
he  drinks  too  much,  he  smokes  too  much;  he 
wants  to  sell,  he  wants  to  travel,  he  wishes  he 
had  his  money  back.  He  says  to  himself,  "The 
fool  builds  the  house  and  the  wise  man  lives  in 
it.  I  must  get  out  of  this,"  and  he  gets  out,  and 
starts  off  on  the  trail  of  another  problem.  All 
showing  clearly  that  the  bird  of  paradise  hovers 
over  the  game  and  departs  when  it  is  won. 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  misunderstood  in  this 
argument.  There  are  difficulties  too  great  to  be 
enticing;  there  is  a  degree  of  "tiredness"  that 
demands  surcease  of  action.  One  thus  weary 
craves  only  to  float  with  the  tide  of  being,  let- 
ting things  settle  themselves,  finding  in  this  state 
of  mental  and  physical  exhaustion  his  heaven  in 
negation,  sleep,  rest.  This  however,  being  a  phase 
of  rhythm  is  but  temporary,  'and  serves  as  a 
preparation  for  more  hard  work  and  discovery. 

Of  all  the  problems,  that  of  death  and  the 
possible  hereafter  is  perhaps  the  most  fascinating. 
While  the  prospect  hangs  over  us  like  a  pall, 
black  and  uncertain,  it  has  its  charm,  and  secret- 
ly we  are  all  looking  forward  to  it  with  both 
dread  and  rapture,  somewhat  as  a  girl  contem- 
plates marriage.    The  fact  of  this  great  change, 


162  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

sure  sometime  to  be  ours,  takes  the  ennui  from 
the  life  of  the  most  passe  and  blase  individual, 
and  clothes  him  with  expectancy.  Tired  of  all 
else,  death,  awful  as  it  may  be,  is  at  least  ex- 
citing, a  thing  unsolved,  and  the  thick  slow- 
flowing  blood  of  the  rankest  pessimist  mounts 
to  his  brain  at  the  thought  of  it. 

The  beginning  and  ending  of  life  is  a  veritable 
Chinese  puzzle,  and  all  that  goes  between  like 
wine  to  the  blood  if  we  once  become  aware  of 
the  charm  of  the  problem. 


FEAR  AND  WORRY. 

It  is  the  fashion  nowadays  to  condemn  fear 
and  anathematize  worry,  but  we  have  failed  to 
annihilate  them  nevertheless.  Why?  Because 
fear  and  worry  are  inherent  in  the  "make  up" 
of  the  man  and  serve  a  purpose.  Fear  as  a 
characteristic  has  its  virtue  in  being  a  safeguard 
and  protector.  The  use  of  fear  and  the  abuse 
of  fear  produce  vastly  different  results.  A  tem- 
perate fear  leads  one  to  be  cautious  and  care- 
ful, preventing  innumerable  accidents  that  would 
otherwise  occur.  An  intemperate  fear  culminates 
in  panic,  which  in  itself  is  the  worst  accident 
of  all.  The  former  modifies  and  subdues  our 
rashness,  the  latter  makes  us  cowards  and  ner- 
vous wrecks. 

The  fearless  and  the  fearful  man  represent 
the  extremes,  and  between  them  we  have  the  indi- 
vidual who  uses  common  sense  in  regard  to  his 
precautions.  He  worries  reasonably,  until  his 
"powder  is  dry,"  then  secure  in  its  protective 
value  he  throws  off  dull  care  and  proceeds  to 
enjoy  himself.  He  locks  his  door  and  forgets 
the  thief.  He  insures  his  life,  and  then  lives. 
This  is  the  reasonable  man.  After  doing  what 
he  can  to  prevent  disaster  he  thinks  no  more 
about  it. 


164  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

It  is  otherwise  with  the  fearful  individual, 
whom  some  people  condemn  as  a  coward.  He 
is  afraid  and  afraid  and  still  more  afraid.  About 
his  body  he  worries  continually,  believing  all 
diseases  instead  of  being  possible,  are  more  than 
probable  in  his  case.  He  is  afraid  not  only  of 
a  complaint,  but  of  the  doctor  who  might  dis- 
cover it.  Symptoms  scare  him,  and  a  lack  of 
symptoms  frightens  him  still  more  He  doses 
slyly  on  the  guess-work  principle,  and  trembles 
at  the  possible  result.  He  is  afraid  to  take  medi- 
cine and  afraid  not  to  take  medicine.  He  is 
frightened  if  his  heart  beats,  and  alarmed  at  the 
prospect  of  its  stopping  altogether.  Unless  he 
temporarily  forgets  himself  his  body  tortures 
him  with  the  alarms  it  generates.  He  is  afraid 
to  travel  and  afraid  to  stay  at  home;  he  fully 
realizes  the  sneaking  dangers  of  his  own  back- 
yard,—his  sewer  pipes,  drains  and  pitfalls;  he 
fears  his  neighbor's  dog  and  the  scratch  of  his 
friend's  cat.  If  terrified  to  the  flying  point  he 
starts  on  a  journey,  he  gets  himself  insured,  and 
proceeds  to  contemplate  disasters  of  every  de- 
scription, from  that  of  missing  his  car  to  a  train 
wreck,  dwelling  morbidly  on  the  shadings  of 
evil  entailed  on  one  who  traverses  the  spaces, 
skimming  over  sea  and  land. 

From  the  financial  point  a  man  of  this  type 
is  in  dread  of  "  setting  up  in  business  for  him- 
self" lest  the  risk  be  too  great,  and  mightily 
afraid  to  serve  anyone  else,  on  account  of  the 
responsibility.  He  is  afraid  to  do  nothing  and 
afraid  to  do  something.    He  sees  the  poor  house 


FEAE  AND  WOEEY  165 

ahead  if  he  takes  chances,  and  he  sees  it  again 
if  de  does  not.  He  is  afraid  to  "get  married," 
and  still  more  afraid  of  single  blessedness.  A 
wife  might  fall  ill  and  become  a  burden,  or  he 
might  fall  ill  and  have  no  wife  to  care  for  him; 
either  way  he  scents  danger.  As  for  becoming 
a  father,  he  hates  to  "chance  it,"  yet  if  he  does 
not  he  fears  a  lonely  old  age  with  no  one  to 
cheer  him  in  his  declining  years.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  might  breed  criminals  and  live  to  see 
his  son  hanged.  He's  afraid  of  the  hereafter, 
but  fears  to  join  any  special  church  lest  some 
other  special  church  turn  out  to  be  a  safer  sail- 
ing craft  to  the  port  of  the  unknown. 

Altogether  this  extremist  in  the  art  of  worry 
is  so  fanatically  burning  with  panic  that  the 
world  laughs  at  him  and  frightens  him  still  more. 

But  the  man  who  is  "afraid  of  nothing"  is 
almost  as  ridiculous.  Such  a  fellow  is  well  de- 
picted in  a  dime  novel.  No  enemy  daunts  him. 
He  has  never  known  fright.  If  a  house  burns, 
he  goes  where  fireman  fear  to  tread,  and  nearly 
chokes  to  death.  In  a  case  of  drowning  he 
plunges  into  the  breakers  and  starts  out  to  res- 
cue the  victim.  Whether  he  can  swim  or  not, 
makes  no  difference;  he  dares  the  water  and 
probably  gets  the  worst  of  it.  A  man  of  this 
type  knows  nothing  of  small  worries  about  his 
stomach,  liver,  heart,  "coming  down"  with  a 
serious  illness;  he  pays  so  little  attention  to  it 
that  he  is  likely  to  succumb  before  a  physician 
gets  on  his  track,  but  should  the  doctor  reach 
him  in  time  our  rash  patient  has  no  fear  of  him, 


y 


166  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

and  invites  an  X-ray  inspection  with  keen  relish. 
Told  he  must  die,  he  is  quite  free  from  terror 
and  shows  no  dread  of  the  undertaker  whom  he 
knows  is  hovering  near  like  a  black  crow,  waiting 
for  his  opportunity,— which  in  the  undertaker's 
case  is  never  allowed  to  slip. 

Such  an  extremist  in  the  art  of  bravery  plunges 
recklessly  into  matrimony,  and  is  under  no  cir- 
cumstance afraid  of  his  wife.  Kegarding  father- 
hood, as  far  as  fear  goes  he  would  as  soon  be 
a  father  as  not.  He  is  extravagant  in  money 
matters,  and  has  no  dread  whatever  of  a  panic. 
For  him  poverty  has  no  terrors,  nor  has  wealth. 
He  is  not  afraid  of  dependence  nor  its  contrary. 
If  a  burglar  enters  his  house  he  chases  him  out, 
aye,  he  follows  him  to  the  very  den  of  thieves, 
where  he  promptly  receives  a  stunning  blow  on 
the  head  and,  dime  novel  fashion,  is  bound  hand 
and  foot,  gagged  and  left  alone  in  a  cellar.  Un- 
daunted, if  he  manages  to  escape  he  follows  up 
his  enemies  and  gets  his  skull  cracked  again.  He 
is  an  utterly  fearless  person,— out  in  the  dark 
at  night  prowling  the  streets,  where  "hold-up 
men"  ply  their  trade;  in  rocky,  suspicious  look- 
ing mountain  canyons,  where  rattlesnakes  and 
poison  oak  flourish;  visiting  friends  down  with 
smallpox,  with  never  a  sign  of  vaccination  on 
him;  hard  up  at  the  door  of  an  enemy  striving 
to  borrow  with  no  false  shame  in  his  eyes,  as 
unalarmed  about  his  future  state  as  the  babe 
new-born. 

What  is  the  philosophy  of  all  this?  Which 
extremist  is  the  fool?     I  answer,  both.     To  be 


FEAB  AND  WOEBY  167 

sure  we  admire  the  man  of  dash  and  daring, 
while  we  despise  the  panicky  coward,  yet  neither 
is  sane  nor  reasonable  in  his  method. 

Should  I  cany  out  to  the  letter  the  modern 
"saws,"  "Don't  Worry,"  "Fear  Nothing,"  etc., 
I  should  undoubtedly  forget  my  engagements, 
fail  to  keep  my  promises,  miss  my  train,  neglect 
my  health,  overdraw  my  bank  account,  become 
indifferent  to  my  morals,  and  imperil  my  im- 
mortal soul.  Using  judgment,  I  propose  to  worry 
and  fear  sufficiently  to  "keep  the  Wolf  from  my 
door"  and  the  thief  from  my  trousers'  pocket. 
I  shall  muzzle  my  hound  in  "dog  days"  and  fly 
to  cover  in  a  storm.  Having  done  all  that,  I 
do  not  propose  to  brood.  Worry  and  fear  serve 
a  good  purpose  in  giving  warning  of  danger 
and  stirring  me  to  activity  as  regards  preven- 
tive ways  and  means.  After  that,  they  are 
enemies  and  take  on  the  grotesque  and  absurd 
features  of  the  great  god  Pan,  who  piped  till 
he  raised  a  panic  and  then  piped  some  more. 

Without  a  reasonable  amount  of  precaution 
superinduced  by  anxiety,  the  world  could  not  go 
on  in  an  orderly  manner  for  any  length  of  time. 
The  cosmic  balance  hinges  on  the  alertness  of 
the  watchman  on  the  lookout,  and  that  watch- 
man is  named  Fear.  Like  pain  he  has  his  mis- 
sion, and  when  he  does  not  abuse  it,  like  pain, 
again  he  becomes  a  savior.  We  may  pretend 
that  the  gospel  of  "Don't  Worry"  is  the  last 
word  in  scientific  philosophy,  but  if  we  had 
keener  insight  we  should  change  the  phrase  to 
"Don't  Worry  Unnecessarily."    Having  worried 


168  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

sufficiently  to  do  my  best  for  myself  and  others, 
I  have  no  call  to  waste  more  energy  along  that 
line.  Of  course  this  is  "easier  said  than  done." 
A  mother  hanging  over  her  sick  child  has  most 
certainly  accomplished  everything  within  her 
power  for  its  relief,  and  yet  she  worries.  But 
her  case  is  extreme,  we  must  excuse  her.  In  the 
thousand  and  one  little  things  where  our  intense 
affections  are  not  involved,  it  is  certainly  un- 
philosophic  to  waste  our  strength  in  foolish 
fear  and  anxiety.  In  so  doing  we  become  a  bur- 
den to  ourselves  and  a  "bore"  to  others.  There 
is  nothing  more  wearing  to  a  man's  nervous 
system  than  to  be  constantly  thrown  in  company 
with  those  who  are  "eaten  up  with  anxiety." 
Such  individuals  air  their  troubles  continually, 
and  make  nuisances  of  themselves. 

The  one  and  only  justifiable  great  fear,  it 
seems  to  me,  is  that  of  being  afraid  of  fear  itself. 
Perhaps  I  am  wrong,  for  to  be  terrified  by  fear 
permits  of  a  fearful  attitude  of  mind,  which  it 
were  probably  better  not  to  encourage.  Well 
then,  how  shall  we  ward  off  panic  if  we  are  not 
permitted  to  be  afraid  of  it?  By  the  under- 
standing, most  certainly.  Having  a  clear  com- 
prehension of  what  the  nature  of  panic  is,  and 
the  danger  involved  in  allowing  it  to  assert 
itself,  we  steer  clear  of  it. 

We  must  remember  that  Fear  is  an  emotion,  not 
an  intellectual  concept.  It  is  a  spontaneous  re- 
action from  something  that  seems  about  to 
injure  us,  nevertheless  so  closely  allied  to  intel- 
lect that  it  is  more  or  less  colored  by  it.     We 


FEAE  AND  WOEEY  169 

can  reason  ourselves  into  being  afraid,  and  we 
can  reason  ourselves  out  again.  Talk  calmly 
and  convincingly  to  a  man  half  paralyzed  with 
fright,  and  he  will  gradually  get  his  equilibrium 
and  overcome  his  terror.  On  the  other  hand, 
by  appealing  to  his  reason  through  argument 
you  can  throw  him  into  a  panic,  convincing  him 
that  dire  disaster  is  close  by. 

Reason  then  is  the  means  by  which  we  regulate 
fear,  exciting  it  sufficiently  to  make  us  cautious 
and  self -protecting,  or  subduing  it  enough  to  pre- 
vent extreme  tension  and  positive  terror. 

Fear  is  apt  to  be  attendant  upon  some  other 
emotion,  in  fact  is  often  the  dim  shadow  of  an 
exalted  passion.  The  mother  fears  for  her  chil- 
dren because  she  adores  them;  the  lover  fears  for 
his  beloved  because  he  worships  her.  The  miser 
lives  in  terror  because  he  gloats  on  his  gold.  A 
man  otherwise  brave  is  often  reduced  to  coward- 
ice through  love  of  his  family  and  anxiety  about 
them. 

Fear  like  hope  is  a  doubtful  friend,  faithful  to 
a  degree,  after  that  an  enemy.  You  can  hope 
against  hope,  which  deferred  "maketh  the  heart 
sick."  You  can  go  on  worrying  till  you  yourself 
are  fear  embodied,  frightful  to  your  friends  and 
a  menace  to  mankind. 

The  intangible  quality  of  fear,  its  uncertainty 
and  procrastination,  make  it  in  the  long  run  an 
exasperating  sensation,  embittering  and  chaotic. 
You  say  to  yourself,  "I  would  prefer  to  know  the 
worst  than  to  continue  to  feel  this  way."  The 
element  of  expectancy,  the  sense  of  something  ter- 


170  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

rible  impending  becomes  in  time  beyond  endur- 
ance, and  panic  ensues. 

The  philosopher,  while  he  knows  fear  and 
anxiety  under  the  mask  of  caution,  prudence  and 
carefulness,  is  quite  content  to  stop  his  acquaint- 
ance there.  Its  more  intense  manifestations,  such 
as  terror  and  frenzy,  he  strives  ever  to  avoid. 


THE  JEWEL  IN  THE  TOAD'S  HEAD. 

Ugly  as  the  toad  appears,  nevertheless  there  is 
a  shining  hit  of  cartilage  in  his  head,  as  beautiful 
as  a  gem ;  and  so  from  time  immemorial ' '  the  jewel 
in  the  toad's  head"  has  been  recognizee!  not  only 
literally  but  illustratively.  If  the  repulsive  and 
hideous  manifest  some  points  of  beauty,  it  should 
certainly  be  the  aim  of  all  truth  seekers  to  dis- 
cover and  value  it. 

There  are  things  which  we  consider  inherently) 
evil,  some  aspects  of  life  seem  without  excuse, 
ugly,  offensive,  quite  devoid  of  any  redeeming 
quality.  Wait!  there's  a  jewel  in  the  toad's  head; 
somewhere  in  this  evil  of  ours  is  the  sparkling 
splendor  of  a  gem  that  makes  the  dread  horror 
of  the  rest  bearable,  or  if  not  bearable,  at  least 
understandable.  On  every  possible  aspect  of 
physical,  mental  and  spiritual  ugliness,— on  every 
grief,  bereavement,  pain,  shame,  or  degradation, 
a  light  flashes,  the  gleam  of  the  jewel  in  the  very 
head  of  it,  a  gleam  so  clear  that  it  serves  to 
explain  and  almost  justify  the  deformity  which 
otherwise  would  be  a  symbol  of  despair. 

Some  kind  of  gain  comes  out  and  manifests  in 
every  loss.  A  scintillating,  uncanny  gem  that 
flashes  in  lurid  splendor  on  the  chaos  of  misery 


172  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

and  miserableness.  Let  me  illustrate:  Perhaps 
your  self-respect  has  disappeared,  and  with  it 
your  decency  and  honor.  You  may  have  broken 
every  one  of  the  ten  commandments,  sinning 
also  against  intrinsic  law  itself.  You  have  de- 
graded your  whole  being;  you  have  stolen,  lied 
and  debauched  yourself;  you  have  tasted  of  every 
evil,  and  your  innermost  self  is  vile.  Where  in  the 
name  of  all  decency  is  the  jewel  in  the  toad's  head 
in  your  case?  So  bad  are  you  that  this  possible 
gem  has  but  one  flash,  one  glow;  it  has  no  facets 
and  no  varied  scintillation,  but  that  one  steady 
shine  is  there  nevertheless,  and  cannot  be  hid. 
Bad  as  you  are,  the  jewel  that  lights  your  way  is 
that  of  experience,  and  has  no  less  dignified  name 
than  that  of  knowledge.  Your  touch  of  pitch  has 
bedaubed  you  with  its  blackness,  and  its  jet  is  a 
gem  and  reflects  facts.  Knowledge  is  yours  in 
spite  of  you;  its  hatefulness  and  nastiness  cannot 
put  out  the  truth  that  shines  in  it  as  such,  miser- 
able though  it  be.  And  by  this  knowledge  you 
may  eventually  be  saved  and  delivered.  The  light 
of  this  knowledge  flashes  from  the  gem  of  jet, 
and  shows  you  the  way  to  better  things  and  a 
fairer  life.  No  one  knows  contrasts  as  do  you,  no 
one  realizes  cleanness  as  do  you  who  have  been 
vile,  no  one  bows  before  purity  as  do  you  who  are 
impure,  no  one  appreciates  honor,  even  to  the  point 
of  envy,  as  do  you  who  are  dishonorable,  no  one 
adores  beauty  as  do  you  who  are  ugly,  no  one 
trembles  before  truth  as  do  you  who  are  a  liar. 
And  all  because  of  the  jewel  in  the  toad's  head— 
your  head.    Out  of  your  vast  intercourse  with  evil 


THE  JEWEL  IN  THE  TOAD'S  HEAD  173 

has  come  your  power  to  estimate  values,  and  that 
power  is  the  jewel  which  is  especially  your  own. 
It  is  sombre  but  it  flashes,  and  is  not  an  imitation 
but  a  real  gem. 

No  condition  or  state  of  evil  is  conceivable  but 
that  some  brilliant  sparkles  in  its  darkest  place. 
The  sanctum  sanctorum  of  the  unholy  is  lighted 
by  a  jewel  which  has  intrinsic  worth,  and  not  only 
the  unholy  but  the  unhappy  also.  The  sombre 
and  pessimistic  good,  people  who  walk  in  shadows 
of  their  own  or  others'  making,  have  gems  con- 
cealed or  revealed  about  them,  as  the  case  may  be. 
The  complaining  man  by  his  continual  unfair  pro- 
tests against  things  as  they  are  in  his  case,  but 
serves  by  the  light  of  the  gem  in  him  to  bring  into 
prominence  those  who  bear  like  burdens  patiently 
without  complaint.  Some  strange  lurid  light, 
opaline  and  resplendent,  makes  a  foil  of  the  back- 
biter and  slanderer  by  which  is  seen  more  dis- 
tinctly the  man  of  clean  soul  and  cautious  tongue. 
The  rubies  that  drop  from  the  knife  of  the  mur- 
derer as  he  draws  it  from  the  heart  of  his  victim 
dance  forever  before  the  eyes  of  humanity  and 
teach  the  world  the  dread  awfulness  of  taking 
human  life.  Even  the  hunter  who  steals  like  a 
hound  along  the  trail  of  his  victim  has  the  emerald 
light  in  his  eyes  and  his  soul,  for  which  caution 
and  fox-like  shrewdness  stand.  All  those  who 
revel  in  danger,  those  who  do,  dare  and  suffer  for 
the  sake  of  conquest  and  achievement,  are  lighted 
by  diamond  flashes  cold  as  ice  and  hot  as  fire. 

Looking  deeper,  I  find  there  is  no  real,  re- 
splendent good  as  such,  but  that  has  its  evil  aspect, 


174  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

and  in  that  evil  aspect  is  a  gem,— not  the  jewel 
of  good  per  se,  but  the  veritable  pearl  of  great 
price,  the  gem  that  is  paid  for  by  sin  and  bereave- 
ment and  pain.  For  instance,  suppose  I  am 
healthy,  wealthy  and  happy— thrice  good,  so  to 
speak;  on  this  very  account  I  have  a  deep-seated 
anxiety  as  regards  my  power  of  holding  on  to 
these  blessings  indefinitely.  This  very  unhappi- 
ness  about  my  happiness  gives  me  keenness  to 
estimate  values,  and  is  a  blessing  in  disguise,— 
in  other  words,  a  jewel  in  the  toad's  head.  Not 
that  worry  is  in  itself  good,  but  the  caution  born 
therefrom  is  exceedingly  good,  enabling  me  to 
maintain  possession  of  those  delights  which  I 
might  otherwise  through  carelessness  lose.  Jeal- 
ousy, contemptible  as  it  is,  has  a  jewel  in  its  head 
nevertheless,  shining  brightly  enough  to  reveal 
one's  self  to  one's  self  with  all  the  cavern-like  pos- 
sibilities and  pitfalls  otherwise  unknown.  It 
shows  the  danger  of  rampant  fascination,  and  the 
blissful  anxieties  of  overweening  love.  It  is  a 
gem  of  great  light,  intense,  electric,  searching. 
The  mean  little  thief  plies  his  debasing  trade  by 
the  glimmer  of  his  tiny  jewel,  which,  garnet-like, 
shines  sufficiently  to  teach  him  that  a  code  of 
honor  among  those  who  steal  is  quite  essential  in 
order  to  make  stealing  possible.  It  shows  him, 
too,  the  better  way  of  honesty  by  force  of  contrast, 
and  makes  him  forever  restless  and  dissatisfied 
with  his  lot. 

The  scarlet  woman  wears  a  gem  on  her  heart 
radiant  with  fire  which  burns  and  tortures.  The 
purity  of  an  innocent  child  is  realized  by  her  as 


THE  JEWEL  IN  THE  TOAD'S  HEAD  175 

by  no  other  because  of  her  impurity.  Fallen,  no 
one  appreciates  as  she  appreciates  the  human 
being  that  stands  erect.  By  the  light  of  this  jewel 
she  sees  the  broken  hearts  of  her  sisters  in  shame 
as  no  other  can  see,  and  by  the  knowledge  gained 
through  painfully  clear  vision,  she  and  she  only 
can  be  the  savior  of  herself  and  those  like  unto  her. 

The  gem  of  sickness  is  the  pearl.  The  diseased, 
the  halt,  the  blind,— those  physically  accursed,  by 
the  very  disease  itself,  create,  whether  or  no1,  the 
pearl  born  of  their  misery.  It  is  a  clouded  jewel, 
varying  in  gleam  like  the  sun  from  dawn  to  even- 
ing. In  the  breast  of  the  pearl,  as  on  the  bosom  of 
the  sea,  the  tides  rise  and  fall,  but  the  light  is  there 
as  in  a  mirror,  and  the  patient  sufferer  sees  his 
own  face  reflected  from  its  sheen  and  a  divine  un- 
earthliness  also  that  implies  higher  planes  of 
being,  and  a  disintegration  of  gross  matter  into 
more  ethereal  elements.  It  often  throws  upon  the 
screen  of  itself  the  very  image  of  death,  like  an 
angel  of  light,  a  welcome  visitor  eagerly  embraced. 
It  reflects  Hebe  also,  the  image  of  health,  and 
teaches  the  invalid  values  in  hygiene  that  were 
never  before  dreamed  of. 

The  gem  of  poverty  is  the  turquoise,— like  the 
clear  sky.  Poverty  is  often  toad-like  in  its  squalor 
and  uncleanness.  Purity  is  expensive,  water  costs 
money,  time  is  cash,  and  the  poor  are  too  tired  to 
keep  clean.  Now  the  sky  when  blue  like  the  tur- 
quoise is  stainless,  and  who  like  the  unclean 
poor  can  realize  the  value  of  purity?  The  sky 
like  wealth  is  boundless  to  him  who  is  poverty- 
stricken.    The  vastness  of  the  great  comes  to  him 


176  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

who  has  nothing.  He  dreams  of  domains  and  pal- 
aces, kingdoms  and  principalities.  His  power  of 
appreciation  of  abundance  is  beyond  the  concep- 
tion of  the  well-to-do.  Ennui  he  never  knows ;  his 
life  is  so  strenuous  that  it  becomes  exciting  and 
intense.  Every  hour  is  a  tragedy  escaped  or 
experienced,  every  minute  vital  and  problemat- 
ical. But  the  jewel  shines  softly,  in  azures  impal- 
pable, and  whether  he  knows  it  or  not  as  a  gem, 
he  certainly  realizes  an  indefinable  something 
which  makes  his  poverty  endurable  and  instruct- 
ive. 

And  these  are  but  a  few  instances  of  the  innu- 
merable forms  that  evil  assumes.  Evil  as  evil  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  light,  but  intrinsically  by 
the  nature  of  Law  the  jewel  is  there.  The  toad's 
head  has  developed  its  own  gem  by  the  nature  and 
virtue  of  its  ugliness.  Lilies  on  a  pond  of  slime 
serve  as  a  commonplace  illustration  but  pat  just 
here.  Evil  cannot  help  bringing  forth  some  form 
of  good  by  its  nature  as  evil.  It  is  the  stalking 
shadow  that  acts  as  a  foil  to  reveal  intrinsic  worth, 
and  that  power  to  be  a  foil  is  as  a  power  good. 
No  contrast  nor  comparison  would  be  made  pos- 
sible without  the  aid  of  that  which  man  calls 
evil,— no  appreciation  of  values.  Even  Satan  has 
his  mission  to  perform  when  he  poses  as  a  mirror 
to  reveal  the  saint.  The  arch  fiend  himself,  the 
very  Devil,  serves  the  end  and  intent  of  being 
when  by  the  fire  of  the  eyes  of  him  God  in  heaven 
is  made  manifest. 


THE  LAW  OF  OPPOSITES. 

A  law  we  believe  is  eternal,  so  there  is  no  need 
to  go  back  in  history  to  find  the  beginning  of  it. 
Nevertheless  it  is  interesting  to  trace  out  its  dis- 
coverers, to  examine  their  application,  and  the 
results  accruing  therefrom. 

Now  the  law  of  opposites  is  spoken  of  in  past 
ages  as  the  identity  of  contraries,  and  was  foisted 
upon  the  world  at  a  very  early  time  by  the  great 
thinkers.  It  is  true,  as  is  well  known,  that  the 
masters  in  every  country  brought  up  at  the  para- 
dox; or  to  make  it  clearer,  Zarathushtra,  Pytha- 
goras, Laotze,  Gautama  and  Jesus  met  at  an 
apparent  point,  that  in  reality  was  no  point  at 
all,— simply  the  passing  or  blending  place  of  the 
extremes.  A  person,  not  subtle,  calls  this  point 
or  blending  place  a  contradiction,  but  a  thinker 
understands  that  on  the  contrary  it  is  a  paradox. 
Things  that  contradict  each  other  are  impossible 
of  blending,  but  a  paradox  is  quite  another  ques- 
tion. 

Now  upon  the  paradox  hinges  the  law  of  oppo- 
sites, which  in  simpler  parlance  might  be  called 
the  law  of  rhythm.  Zarathushtra,  or  Zoroaster,  as 
he  is  commonly  called,  apparently  taught  dualism; 
that  there  were  two  principles  in  nature,  the  good 


178  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

and  evil,  under  the  guise  of  Ahum  Mazdao  (Or- 
muzd)— Light,  and  Angro  Mamyush  (Ahriman) 
—Darkness.  In  the  Gathas  or  sacred  books,  the 
evil  spirit  is  less  prominent  than  the  good.  In 
Mazdaism,  as  the  faith  of  Zoroaster  is  called,  the 
good  is  so  entirely  uppermost  that  it  seems  to  be 
all  in  all. 

Now  this  dualism  is  as  old  as  history,  and  is  an 
extremely  common  belief  among  the  followers  of 
all  masters.  The  followers  we  say,  for  not  a  single 
master  that  we  can  discover  believed  it.  You  will 
notice  as  you  sift  the  cult  of  the  almost  mythical 
Zoroaster  that  these  apparently  two  principles  in 
Nature  come  together,  being  twins  proceeding 
from  the  fundamental  law  of  Unity.  As  surely  as 
day  is  comprehended  because  of  night  and  night 
because  of  day,  so  were  the  light  and  darkness  of 
this  great  leader  of  Iran  based  emphatically  and 
everlastingly  upon  One,  and  their  meeting  was  the 
identification  of  contraries  and  the  passage  of 
extremes. 

But  let  us  get  away  from  Persia  and  look  into 
Ancient  Greece.  Another  almost  fabled  individ- 
ual, born  probably  about  582  B.  C,  called  Pytha- 
goras, who  made  of  geometry  a  science,  presented 
the  identity  of  contraries,  or  the  law  of  opposites. 
These  opposites  were  unity  and  duality,  or  num- 
ber and  one;  in  modern  terms  we  should  say 
variety  in  unity,— variety  standing  for  the  number 
of  Pythagoras,  and  unity  for  one.  In  the  union 
of  these  opposites  (that  is  the  blending  point  be- 
tween the  two)  consists  harmony  or  neutrality. 
Suppose  we  take  a  simple  illustration.    Blend 


THE  LAW  OF  OPPOSITES  179 

black  and  white,— opposites,  and  what  do  you 
get  but  a  neutral  tint,  or  gray?  Blend  night  and 
day,  and  what  do  you  get  but  neutrality,  dawn,  or 
the  gloaming— evening.  Blend  love  and  hate,— 
opposites,  and  what  do  you  get  but  the  rather 
comfortable  neutral  state  of  indifference? 

The  basic  philosophy  of  classic  Hellas,  then, 
upon  which  the  later  philosophies  were  grafted, 
was  that  dualistic  monism— if  it  may  be  so 
called— which  is  apparently  two,  but  in  reality 
one.  Over  in  old  China  still  further  back,  about 
604  B.  C,  there  lived  a  master  who  is  supposed  to 
be  the  author  of  the  book  called  Tao-teh  King. 
This  master's  name  was  Laotze,  and  he  taught 
the  identity  of  contraries.  Later  on  he  had  a  dis- 
ciple probably  as  great  as  himself,  who  stood  to 
the  original  as  did  Paul  to  Jesus,  dialing  Tzu 
left  much  written  matter  behind  him.  Let  us 
quote  a  few  passages. 

"To  know  that  east  and  West  are  convertible 
and  yet  necessary  terms,  is  the  due  adjustment  of 
functions.  For  instance,  any  given  point  is  of 
course  east  in  relation  to  west,  west  in  relation  to 
east;  but  absolutely  it  may  be  said  that  its  west- 
ness  does  not  include  its  eastness,  or  that  it  is 
neither  east  nor  west." 

Again  he  says:  "If  we  say  that  anything  is 
good  or  evil  because  it  is  either  good  or  evil  in  our 
eyes,  then  there  is  nothing  which  is  not  good, 
nothing  which  is  not  evil.  To  know  that  Tao  and 
Chieh  were  both  good  and  both  evil  from  their 
opposite  points  of  view,  this  is  the  expression  of 
a  standard.    Therefore  those  who  would  have  right 


180  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

without  its  correlative  wrong,  or  good  without  its 
correlative  misrule,  they  do  not  comprehend  the 
great  principles  of  the  universe.  One  might  as 
well  talk  of  the  existence  of  heaven  without  that 
of  earth,  or  the  negative  principle  without  the 
positive,  which  is  clearly  absurd." 

Now  after  having  quoted  these  passages  from 
Chaung  Tzu,  Laotze's  most  brilliant  pupil,  you 
are  likely  to  retort,  "He  was  only  an  Ancient,  and 
we  do  not  base  our  judgment  upon  the  Ancients." 
Very  well,  then,  drop  the  name  of  Chaung  Tzu 
altogether,  forget  that  Laotze  was  ever  born,  wipe 
Zoroaster  off  the  slate  of  history,  bury  Pytha- 
goras out  of  sight,  look  upon  the  dualistic,  mon- 
istic prince  Siddartha  as  a  myth,  forget  the  mag- 
nificent exposition  of  the  same  fundamental  truth 
given  out  by  the  Nazarene.  And  yet  I  present  to 
your  incredulity  something  still  more  ancient  than 
are  they  all  in  the  fact  of  law  itself.  T  challenge 
and  defy  you  to  disprove  it.  This  principle  can  no 
more  be  ignored  than  can  that  of  repulsion  and 
attraction,  for  if  you  did  but  know  it,  it  hinges 
upon  this  selfsame  law  as  surely  as  rhythm  is 
rhythm  and  tides  are  tides.  The  identity  of  con- 
traries reduced  to  physics  is  the  law  of  action  and 
reaction,  contraction  and  expansion,  or,  expressed 
in  one  stupendous  term,— POLARITY.  He  that 
can  freeze  with  hate  can  burn  with  love,  he  that 
can  save  can  spend,  he  that  can  suffer  can  enjoy, 
he  that  can  look  down  can  raise  his  eyes,  he  that 
hath  a  future  hath  a  past.  A  heaven  implies  a 
hell.  And  what  is  this  but  rhythm,  or  action  and 
reaction,  a  going  out  and  coming  in,  an  inhaling 


THE  LAW  OF  OPPOSITES  181 

and  exhaling,  a  night  and  day,  an  ebb  and  flow? 
And  the  meeting  point  of  these  extremes  is  One. 
This  meeting  point  I  say  is  neutrality,  poise,  ap- 
proximate balance,  Nirvana,  rest ;  the  shadows  are 
soft  and  gray  and  tender,  without  passion,  with- 
out fire. 

The  irony  of  all  this  is  that  we  know  it  so  sub- 
consciously that  we  fail  to  utilize  our  knowledge. 
This  is  no  fable,  let  me  tell  you,  but  "The  One 
Thing."  To  bring  this  law  into  practice  is  to 
apply  the  mathematics  of  Pythagoras  to  our  daily 
lives,  to  take  stock  of  our  rhythm  and  discover 
how  the  tide  stands.  Is  it  coming  in  or  going  out  ? 
Will  the  law  of  the  laws,  somehow  or  other  we 
sit  on  the  crest  of  the  wave,  if  we  do  but  know 
it,  a  law  unto  ourselves.  And  when  extremes 
come  verging  together  in  the  surging  vortex  of 
being,  we  balance  like  philosophers  and  find  our- 
selves again  on  a  new  crest,  uninjured  by  our 
plunge  into  the  depths  below.  There  is  no  hell 
deep  enough  to  hold  a  master  long.  He  scales  its 
sides  and  peers  over  the  brim  of  it,  in  spite  of  a 
legion  of  devils  marshalled  by  Satan  himself.  And 
because  the  Sage  descends  to  the  infernal  regions 
he  discovers  the  beauty  of  heaven.  Jesus  de- 
scended into  hell  and  then  went  up— up!  Could 
he  ever  have  risen  if  he  had  not  been  down  ?  The 
very  very  wise  court  suffering,  even  to  that  of  a 
cross.  Sorrow  is  pregnant  and  as  surely  as  the 
seed  sprouts  will  bring  forth  a  child  called  Joy. 


THE  ABSOLUTE. 

A  stupendous  subject,  and  you  may  well  won- 
der that  I,  or  any  other  dare  to  write  about 
it.  Reversely  you  can  as  reasonably  assert 
that  it  has  been  worn  threadbare.  Either  way  it 
is  a  presumptuous  undertaking,  which  neverthe- 
less I  shall  attempt. 

Now  in  beginning  I  must  know  the  meaning 
or  meanings  of  the  term,  and  proceed  from  the 
base  of  a  definition.  I  shall  set  aside  all  pre^ 
liminary  ones,  such  as  certain,  infallible,  peremp- 
tory, complete,  entire,  ultimate,  immeasurable, 
etc.,  and  argue  at  once  from  the  metaphysical 
definition  of  the  word  as  a  noun. 

The  absolute  about  which  I  intend  to  write 
is  "that  which  is  free  from  restriction,"  the  un- 
conditioned, independent  of  relations;  in  other 
words,  the  opposite  of  the  relative.  It  is  si 
totality,  but  not  infinity. 

I  am  aware  that  my  definitions  may  be  con- 
tested, but  as  long  as  my  argument  is  true  to 
them,  it  does  not  matter. 

Now  my  appeal  is  to  the  ordinary  thinker, 
whose  prejudices  have  not  been  maintained 
through  the  influence  of  others.  Can  you,  plain 
man,  find  some  one  thing  in  life  which  you  are 
sure  of,  and  can  honestly  define  as  absolute? 
Now  think!     Is  there  an  existent  something  in 


THE  ABSOLUTE  183 

things  themselves  that  is  uniform,  alike  in  all,— 
that  maintaining  relationship,  is  not  in  itself 
relative?  Something  you  cannot  see,  hear,  taste, 
smell  or  handle,  which  nevertheless  you  are  per- 
fectly certain  is  free  from  restriction  and  uncon- 
ditioned? "Yes,"  you  answer,  "the  law  of  the 
relativities  or  the  principle  which  governs  them; 
it  has  totality  and  unity,  is  alike  in  all  and  con- 
ditioned by  none."  Your  answer  is  well  taken, 
but  you  must  remember  that  you  are  now  speak- 
ing of  the  first  principle,  the  ultimate,  not  its 
secondary  manifestations  which  we  call  the  laws, 
for  they  hinge  upon  and  modify  each  other.  Fur- 
ther, this  first  principle  which  you  may  call 
absolute,  has  a  way  of  appearing  as  dual,  or  as 
two  principles,  thus  apparently  stultifying  its 
absoluteness  and  seemingly  conditioning  itself. 
In  fact  it  has  a  reverse  aspect,  and,  to  him  who 
is  not  sufficiently  subtle,  resolves  itself  into  dual- 
ism, and  thence  into  pluralism.  A  law  that  shall 
seem  to  draw  all  things  toward  a  common  center 
and  by  the  nature  of  its  intensity  in  so  doing  neces- 
sarily cause  repulsion,  is  split  in  two,  so  to  speak, 
and  is  spoken  of  as  two  principles  instead  of 
one.  Now  the  real  absoluteness  of  such  a  law— 
call  it  gravity  if  you  will— lies  in  the  fact  that 
no  matter  how  definitely  repulsion  asserts  itself, 
the  gravity  still  holds;  the  principle  is  unchanged 
and  its  effect  unmodified  in  spite  of  its  tangent 
possibilities.  In  fact  these  same  possibilities 
but  serve  to  prove  the  law  upon  which  they  rest. 
In  no  way  can  we  effect  unity  among  diverse 
things  unless  there  is  one  element  in  common 


184  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

between  them.  Variety  strikes  the  senses  as  we 
look  out  upon  the  world.  No  two  things  are  the 
same,  many  are  radically  different  one  from  the 
other.  Through  the  five  senses  we  discover 
the  multiplicities,  but  by  these  same  senses  con- 
jointly or  through  the  sense  of  the  senses,  that 
is  through  a  sort  of  psychical  mental  touch,  we 
realize  that  in  them  all  is  the  self-existent  or 
absolute  law.  But,  you  say,  the  very  law  is  utter- 
ly dependent  upon  the  things  which  it  unites; 
that  without  things  there  would  be  no  law  of 
them,  therefore  this  principle  itself  is  relative, 
and  your  absolute  is  a  dream  of    the  brain. 

Now!  we  have  reached  the  crux  of  the  question. 
If  we  assert  a  beginning  of  things  as  such,  your 
assumption  is  well  taken.  The  law  of  things 
could  not  precede  them— by  its  very  nature, 
neither  could  things  precede  the  law.  If  the  law 
is  eternal,  multiplicity  in  some  form  is  eternal  also. 
Then  you  may  well  ask  why  things  as  such  are 
not  absolute  too.  And  I  answer,  that  things  by 
their  inherent  tendency  to  change,  which  change 
alone  makes  them  various,  are  not  absolute;  but 
the  law  of  change,  which  is  but  the  reverse  aspect 
of  the  law  of  unity,  is  absolute.  And  this  is  no 
quibble.  Change,  which  is  the  pronounced  fac- 
tor in  relationship,  is  itself  changeless.  As  law 
it  is  unity  reversely  aspected. 

The  unconditioned  then  is  law  without  begin- 
ning or  end,  and  things  are  its  opposite  or  eter- 
nally conditioned  manifestation.  But,  you  argue, 
law  is  conditioned  by  its  own  nature;  it  is  hard, 
fixed,  unalterable.     Here  we  hold  up  the  horns 


THE  ABSOLUTE  185 

of  the  dilemma  and  find  that  they  belong  to  one 
Being.  Unity,  which  is  law  manifesting,  is  for- 
ever uniting  that  which  is  not  hard,  fixed  and 
unalterable.  As  law,  it  is  absolutely  given  over 
to  dealing  with  change;  as  law  it  makes  the 
volatile  and  changeable  possible,  in  fact  is  ab- 
solute as  change.  As  surely  as  it  is  absolute  as 
rigidity,  it  is  legally  united  to  change.  It  is 
absolute  change  and  absolute  rigidity— a  para- 
dox but  not  a  contradiction.  The  change  can 
only  be  produced  by  fixity,  and  the  unity  can 
only  be  produced  by  multiplicity.  A  garden  of 
incomparable  flowers  grows  from  the  unifying 
quality  of  the  river  that  waters  it.  One  stream 
permeates  all  the  plants,  one  liquid  makes  many 
manifestations  possible.  This  is  but  a  surface 
illustration,  and  is  not  true  to  the  probe,  never- 
theless it  will  do,  as  no  simile  can  possibly  ex- 
plain the  subtlety  of  law.  Now  this  absolute 
law  with  its  manifestation  in  things,  in  its  finality 
we  know  nothing  about.  We  can  understand, 
however,  its  paradoxical  nature  as  far  as  mind 
can  reach,  and  grasp  its  absoluteness  as  such.  Is 
it  Being?  As  far  as  power  and  its  expressions 
go,  it  most  certainly  is.  Is  it  Gk>d?  As  far  as 
we  can  mentally  grasp  a  sense  of  totality,  our- 
selves included— yes.  Then  what  are  things,  and 
why  bother  about  them? 

Right  here  let  me  say,  that  our  universe  is 
made  up  of  things,  our  life  is  in  and  among 
things,  our  hell  and  heaven  hinge  upon  things. 
The  only  way  we  can  realize  this  law  is  through 
things.    We   ourselves    are   things.    Their   very 


186  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

changeableness  is  their  glory,  their  chameleon 
charm  is  our  paradise,  their  relativities  make  the 
one  thing  our  supreme  joy.  You  cannot  say 
that  things  are  included  in  the  lawi  of  them,  any 
more  than  you  can  say  that  they  include  the  law. 
The  absolute  and  relative  are  polarized  aspects 
of  totality.  One  is  no  way  superior  to  the  other. 
The  pole  conditioned  is  not  the  pole  uncondi- 
tioned—that is  all.  Do  the  poles  condition  each 
other  then?  you  ask.  I  answer  that  the  totality 
includes  its  poles,  and  as  a  unity  it  stands  as 
absolute  or  manifested  law,  because  this  law  is 
of  itself  unity.  Its  nature  is  that  of  complete- 
ness,—a  freedom  from  restrictions. 

Can  I  understand  the  absolute?  No,  because 
all  reason  deals  with  the  conditioned  or  relative. 
Can  I  realize  the  absolute?  Yes,  just  as  I  am 
conscious  of  gravity  by  its  pull,  without  com- 
prehending it.  Reason  by  its  nature  deals  with 
the  many.  Law  by  its  nature,  as  far  as  I  realize 
it,  acts  as  One.  It  is  the  Tao  of  Laotze,  which 
permeates  everything  yet  is  no  thing.  Energy 
is  beyond  me,  law  is  beyond  me,  as  far  as 
brain  power  and  intellect  go,  but  I  feel  the 
absolute.  When  pluralism  denies  the  absolute 
it  exorcises  itself,  for  there  could  be  no  plu- 
ralism without  its  absolute  pole  of  unity.  The 
Pragmatist  harps  irritably  upon  the  practical 
but  there  could  be  no  practicable  without  the 
impracticable.  The  Solipsist  argues  that  he 
alone  lives  the  Solitary;  but  there  can  be  no 
isolation  without  the  crowd.  Time  and  space 
are    said    to    annihilate    the   unconditioned,    but 


THE  ABSOLUTE  187 

there  can  be  no  unconditioned  without  time  and 
space.  As  relative  as  I  myself  am— made 
up  of  an  infinity  of  parts,  of  one  thing  am  I  sure, 
and  that  is  the  principle  of  principles  that  regu- 
lates my  own  multiplicity.  Should  I  call  it  God, 
because  in  my  emotion  I  so  construe  it,  who,  I 
ask,  can  deny  my  claim?  "Is  the  Absolute  fate, 
and  have  I  no  free  will?"  No,  it  is  not  fate, 
and  I  have  a  free  will.  The  Absolute  is  impos- 
sible without  my  free  will.  It  is  on  that  same 
free  will  its  absoluteness  hinges.  My  free  will 
necessitates  multiplicity,  and  multiplicity  necessi- 
tates the  absolute.  This  is  not  blasphemy.  I  am 
using  intellect  now  in  my  effort  to*  comprehend 
a  prerogative  of  absoluteness  as  such.  If  there 
were  not  things  to  choose  between  and  to  desire, 
I  should  have  no  will,  nor  could  I  be  I,— an  indi- 
vidual, nor  could  there  be  a  law  of  absolute  unity, 
for  there  would  be  nothing  to  unify.  The  very 
absoluteness  or  changelessness  of  this  principle 
demands  that  which  changes,  namely,  things  and 
the  will  that  roves  among  them.  It  is  thing  as 
opposed  to  things,  or  "the  thing  in  itself,"  mani- 
festing as  things. 

Fate,  then,  in  the  finality  of  thinking,  is  a  mean- 
ingless term;  secondarily  along  with  the  epithet 
chance,  it  is  tolerated. 

You  have  read  of  the  "everlasting  arms,"— the 
real  and  only  resting  place.  I  fully  believe  this 
enfolding  embrace,  which  man  may  realize  if  he 
will,  is  none  other  than  that  of  the  absolute  and 
relative,  belonging  to  the  One  which  might  well 
be  called  Almighty  God. 


OLD  AGE. 

When  age  gets  old  it  is  in  order  to  investigate. 
Why  is  it?  What  is  it?  "Once  upon  a  time" 
old  age  was  supposed  to  be  part  and  parcel  of 
a  ' '  long  and  honorable  life. ' '  Indeed  it  was  hard- 
ly respectable  not  to  reach  years  of  decrepitude, 
to  say  nothing  of  discretion.  The  bald  gray  head, 
the  stiff  walk,  the  two  canes  and  the  croaking 
voice  were  looked  upon  with  awe  and  approval. 
Any  one  who  tried  to  shirk  old  age  was  judged 
abnormal  and  laughed  at  until  he  had  properly 
shelved  himself.  But  science  is  looking  into  the 
matter  today,  and  things  are  different.  Humanity 
being  informed  that  old  age  is  disease,  begins 
to  fight  shy  of  the  subject;  that  is,  the  male  half, 
while  women  fail  to  advertise  their  years  by  the 
shape  of  their  bonnets,  as  previously  they  were 
wont  to  do. 

When  I  watch  an  automobile  skimming  down 
its  line  of  perspective  till  it  fades  into  apparent 
nonentity,  the  last  thing  I  lose  sight  of  is  its 
emphatically  assertive  number.  Beautiful,  defiant 
though  it  may  be,  it  is  nevertheless  ticketed  like 
a  jailbird,  and  much  of  its  charm  vanishes  in 
its  obtrusive  label.  Not  long  since  people,  by 
certain  things  they  wore  or  not,   conspicuously 


OLD  AGE  189 

announced  themselves,  one  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses proclaimed  by  some  trick  of  dress,  I  am 
45;  another  said  60;  another  23.  When,  like  the 
automobile,  they  vanished  down  their  lines  of 
perspective,  the  last  to  catch  your  eye  were  the 
figures  on  their  backs,  mystic  but  assertive,  ad- 
vertising the  number  of  years  they  had  stalked 
earth  for  prey  or  otherwise,  and  just  what  might 
be  expected  of  them. 

Now  that  all  happened  before  old  age  was 
dubbed  disease.  Since  then  till  date  there  has 
been  a  sort  of  jumble  in  regard  to  the  whys  and 
wherefores  of  the  subject,  and  people  as  yet  have 
not  found  their  bearings.  Woman  was  the  first  to 
jump  into  the  ranks  of  the  unconditioned.  Mrs. 
Smith  was  dubious  about  being  the  mother  of 
Miss  Smith,  and  tried  to  pass  as  her  sister.  Her 
"get  up"  was  utterly  changed,  not  in  clothes 
alone,  but  in  physique  also.  She  "thinned  down" 
or  "plumped  out,"  as  the  case  might  require, 
growing  younger  and  younger  as  time  passed, 
much  to  the  chagrin  of  her  daughter,  who  hardly 
relished  this  sisterly  attitude,  secretly  feeling  like 
an  orphan— motherless.  Later,  however,  to  get 
even,  the  said  Miss  Smith  assumed  a  role,  im- 
possible to  Mrs.  Smith,  namely,  that  of  naive 
innocence  and  youthful  simplicity,  wearing  great 
hairbows  and  collarless  jackets,  that  proclaimed 
her  at  once  the  girl  she  was. 

Men  through  contagion  by  association  with 
women,  began  posing  as  youngsters  also.  In  the 
great  register  they  falsified  their  age,  some  of 
the  baldheaded    appearing  in  wigs;    their  teeth 


190  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

were  reinforced,  and  their  gray  sidewhiskers 
shaved  off.  They  even  resorted  to  cold  cream 
and  violet  water.  Their  trunks  encased  in 
straight-front  corsets,  beside  their  sons  they 
looked  dapper  and  well  groomed,  so  much  so  that 
the  younger  men  were  forced  to  appear  as  boys, 
lest  people  mistake  their  fathers  for  their  brothers. 

And  all  this  because  old  age  is  disease,  and 
the  world  resents  it.  Its  respectability  went  down 
when  the  old  age  microbe  presented  itself  to  the 
microscope. 

Is  science  right  1  Are  we  as  humans  obliged  to 
succumb  to  old  age  if  we  live  long  enough?  Or 
have  we  been  duped  all  these  centuries  with  the 
false  assumption  that  dignity  and  decrepitude  are 
a  noble  pair,  destined  to  marry,  and  the  man 
who  scorns  a  "ripe"  old  age,  which  ripeness  is 
in  plain  language  decay,  is  insane  through  vanity 
and  self-importance.  Some  doctors  ascribe  the 
disease  of  old  age  to  a  microbe,  others  to  a  wrong- 
ly constituted  anatomy.  Whether  we  know  the 
cause  or  not,  we  can  certainly  get  at  the  symp- 
toms. An  aged  person  (I  am  not  referring  in 
this  category  to  his  years)  is  brittle  in  arteries 
and  bone,  therefore  stiff  and,  in  a  physical  sense, 
gritty.  His  hair,  his  eyes,  everything  about  him 
is  minus  the  limberness  of  youth.  He  bends  with 
an  effort,  he  pants  for  breath,  and  his  brain  in 
time  gives  way,  bringing  about  senility  and  "sec- 
ond childhood."  It  is  quite  evident  that  some- 
thing has  happened  to  not  only  smother  the  fires 
of  youth,  but  to  contract  and  harden  his  mortal 
body.    Can  the  mere  passing  of  years  do  this,  or 


OLD  AGE  191 

are  the  experiences  which  he  goes  through  during 
that  time  the  sole  cause?  I  am  greatly  inclined  to 
believe  that  certain  habits  of  life  will  bring  about 
such  results  and  certain  others  will  not,  time 
being  but  a  factor  for  the  " fixing"  of  them  either 
one  way  or  the  other. 

The  physical  microbe  that  science  has  found 
in  the  old  age  patient,  might  be  well  used  as  a 
symbol  of  mental  bacteria  that  dominate  the  mind 
of  man  and  assure  him  all  that  decrepitude  can 
bring.  When  young  the  ordinary  individual  lays 
his  future  out  in  sections,  so  to  speak,  primarily 
cutting  it  up  into  youth,  middle  age,  rotund  elder- 
ness,  and  "mellow"  old  age.  He  looks  forward 
to  this,  and  sees  himself  continually  under  these 
different  guises,  which  work  themselves  out  into 
physical  actuality  one  by  one.  This  is  not  only 
a  race  habit,  but  a  human  habit  also.  He  refers 
these  changes  in  himself  to  the  passing  of  time, 
and  he  constantly  repeats  his  age  to  himself  and 
to  others  who  are  curious  enough  to  ask.  He 
puts  himself  on  this  shelf,  and  that  by  counting 
his  years.  "I  am  here  because  I  have  lived  so 
long, ' '  and  here  because  of  ' '  some  more. ' '  Other 
people  judge  him  likewise,  and  he  could  as  easily 
escape  a  straightjacket,  as  get  off  his  particular 
perch  where  he  and  others  have  "shelved"  him. 
He  looks  his  age  too,  no  mistake  about  it.  He 
is  a  victim  of  auto-suggestion,  and  finds  no  coun- 
ter hint  outside  him  to  change  his  position. 

Now  first  let  us  consider  the  physical  person 
that  makes  up  a  good  half  of  the  man.  As  time 
passes   and   the  boy  matures,   he  forgets   or  is 


192  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

ignorant  that  he  must  change  his  eating,  drink- 
ing and  other  habits  to  correspond.  While  grow- 
ing he  had  a  double  task  on  hand;  first  to  main- 
tain life  by  the  fuel  of  food,  second  to  add  to 
his  bodily  stature  through  the  substance  assimi- 
lated. When  this  full  stature  is  attained  the  sec- 
ond process  is  practically  done  away  with,  or 
should  be— the  first  alone  being  necessary.  To 
maintain  life  the  demand  and  supply  must  be 
equalized,  but  the  new-made  man  more  likely 
than  not,  having  cultivated  a  fastidious  palate, 
proceeds  to  gorge  food  in  order  to  tickle  this 
autocrat  of  his  mouth,  till  the  supply  is  so  much 
beyond  the  demand  that  he  becomes  overstocked. 
He  keeps  this  up  for  years  and  years,  and  his 
body,  resentful  and  rebellious,  strives  in  every  way 
to  unload  itself  and  maintain  an  equilibrium.  For 
a  while  during  the  man's  prime,  when  his  energy 
is  superb,  it  seems  to  succeed,  but  gradually  this 
same  energy  is  sapped  in  the  effort,  and  as  time 
passes  the  accretions  overbalance  the  excretions, 
and  slowly  but  surely  the  arteries,  nerves  and 
tissues  succumb.  Deposits  begin  to  gather,  of 
both  fat  and  mineral.  To  even  harbor  these  ab- 
normal visitors  takes  strength,  and  to  oust  them 
still  more.  At  this  point  our  victim  of  his  palate 
begins  the  medicine  regime.  Doctors  and  doses 
are  quite  essential  to  the  helping  of  "nature." 
To  "assist  nature"  and  bring  about  equilibrium 
is  the  cry  of  Esculapius.  Some  little  gain  is 
made,  and  if  the  patient  follows  his  physician's 
advice  and  lives  abstemiously,  a  real  equation 
may  be  struck  and  genuine  old  age  escaped;  for 


OLD  AGE  193 

whatever  microbes  show  themselves  at  this  period 
are  as  likely  to  grow  out  of  the  environment  as 
to  cause  it,  that  is,  when  the  environment  is  con- 
genial the  microbe  is  there.  This  is  the  way  he 
appears  to  me— this  microbe!  A  little  spectacled 
devil,  his  bald  poll  rimmed  about  with  dead  hair, 
his  eyes  blinking  rheum,  his  toothless  mouth 
drooling,— a  shriveled  mummy  in  epitome,  his 
energy  all  but  potential,  his  voice  a  ghoulish 
whimper,  and  himself  too  frail  for  the  microscopic 
eye. 

Now  suppose  man  started  life  with  an  alto- 
gether different  standard.  In  the  first  place  his 
object  is  prime,— "prime  of  life,"  more  and  more 
prime,  and  yet  still  more— nothing  but  prime. 
Time  would  be  but  a  factor,  enabling  him  by  ex- 
perience to  learn  better  and  better  how  to  main- 
tain that  prime.  For  him  death  lies  off  some- 
where perhaps,  but  not  old  age.  He  has  no  more 
idea  of  harboring  it  than  he  has  of  smallpox  or 
plague.  Poise  and  equilibrium  would  never  per- 
mit senility.  His  one  great  problem  is  how  to 
keep  this  balance,  what  and  how  much  to  eat 
and  drink.  In  fact  the  hygiene  of  life  would  be 
the  thing  to  master.  Of  course  he  might  fail,  but 
one  thing  is  certain,  the  chances  of  escape  from 
the  disease— old  age,  are  pre-eminently  on  his 
side;  and  after  a  century  of  his  own  and  others' 
experience,  he  would  probably  learn  the  law  of 
balance  so  perfectly,  and  live  by  it  so  carefully 
that  death  would  lay  a  man  in  his  prime  in  the 
coffin  instead  of  one  that  had  shriveled  with  years. 

The  science  of  living  must  be  first  learned  and 


194  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

then  practiced.  He  deserves  a  lame  old  age  who, 
knowing  the  trnth,  will  not  abide  by  it,  but  eats 
and  drinks  and  is  merry  at  the  expense  of  his 
arteries  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  bacteria 
that  wait  like  minute  buzzards  close  at  hand. 

Now  let  us  look  on  the  other  pole  of  this  ques- 
tion—the mental  attitude.  This  continual  sug- 
gesting to  one's  self,  "I  am  getting  old,  older, 
oldest;"  this  holding  a  mental  mirror  before  one's 
face  to  watch  the  lines  come  in,  the  crow's  feet 
and  the  cat's  claws,  and  the  spider's  web,— this 
hunting  for  brittle  gray  hairs,  this  taking  of  one's 
temperature  periodically,  and  fingering  of  the 
pulse,— this  anticipation  of  rheumatism  and  men- 
tal apathy,  these  all  are  wonderful  helps  in  bring- 
ing old  age  to  the  fore  and  establishing  old  time 
traditions.  Body  and  mind  interact  continually. 
Let  either  assume  an  inherited  premise  as  a  basis 
of  procedure,  and  the  other  agrees.  Let  both, 
however,  throw  over  all  preconceived  notions  that 
are  not  founded  on  the  law  of  equilibrium,  and 
start  out  from  the  substantial  base  of  a  funda- 
mental poise,  and  the  union  will  produce  a  miracle 
—even  perpetual  prime.  It  is  not  youth  that  men 
want  but  prime.  They  are  never  satisfied  until 
they  reach  it,  and  there  they  really  desire  to  stay. 

But  you  say,  everything  grows  old,— plants, 
animals,  rocks.  Do  they?  There  are  living  trees 
that  flourished  when  history  was  young.  There 
are  birds  and  animals  that  die  when  they  get 
ready,  looking  nearly  as  youthful  as  when  they 
first  appeared  a  century  before.  But  setting  this 
aside,  I  admit  that  creature  life  as  a,  rule  shows 


OLD  AGE  195 

age  and  decay.  And  man  is  a  creature,  you  as- 
sert. Yes,  and  something  more.  If  the  old  Bible 
stories  are  worthy  of  credence,  the  man  of  ancient 
times  lived  for  hundreds  of  years,  still  young 
and  virile.  It  is  said  that  in  the  Orient  today 
there  are  persons  attaining  a  truly  great  age, 
who  still  seem  equal  to  things.  But  whether  this 
is  so  or  not,  what  man  has  never  before  done  he 
may  some  time  come  to  do  most  certainly.  It  is  not 
recorded  of  the  past  that  he  talked  with  or  with- 
out wires,  over  long  distance,  but  he  does  it  now. 
Nor  was  he  supposed  to  be  able  to  weigh  the 
stars  and  analyze  their  substance,  but  he  does 
it  now.  Nor  could  he  formerly  inspect  the  in- 
side of  a  human  body  by  an  X-ray,  but  he  does 
it  now.  Nor  could  he  manipulate  electricity  to 
any  extent,— he  does  it  now.  Man  is  a  unique 
force  in  the  universe.  What  he  has  done  is  no 
criterion  for  what  he  will  do.  One  thing  I  can 
boldly  assert,  however:  man  must  make  himself 
"fit"  for  the  majestic  processional  of  the  undis- 
covered which  is  now  sending  its  clear  voice 
ahead  of  it  in  a  clarion  challenge.  No  old  age 
microbe  can  be  allowed  at  the  gorgeous  assem- 
blage about  to  gather  to  usher  in  the  New,  when 
the  "Gaiety  of  Nations"  shall  resolve  itself  into 
the  carnival  of  the  world,  met  to  celebrate  the 
"Events  of  the  20th  Century."  And  you— man, 
if  you  would  be  a  guest,  must  be  in  your  prime 
and  wear  your  best  clothes.  Your  "claw  hammer 
swallow  tail,"  without  padding.  No  second-hand 
coat  pinned  up  into  imitation  of  the  real  thing 
will  pass  you  into  the  assembly  where  Modern 


196  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Science  holds  court.  Science  has  caught  the  old 
age  microbe  and  has  it  fast  on  the  slide  of  the 
microscope,  and  in  its  place  has  presented  you 
with  the  formula  for  sane  and  temperate  living 
sexually  and  gastronomically.  She  bids  you  hold 
your  tongue  about  your  age,  lest  through  auto 
suggestion  you  bring  in  gray  hairs.  Women  al- 
ready have  learned  to  keep  still,  and  men  are 
taking  lessons.  Science  instructs  you  not  to  tabu- 
late yourselves  or  wear  a  ticketed  sum-total  of 
your  years  on  your  back.  She  tells  you  to  eat 
less  and  drink  more  (that  is,  pure  water).  Altc+- 
gether  the  art  of  living  has  been  reduced  to  a 
system  plus  spontaneity,  which  is  the  essence  of 
life  itself. 

If  you,  still,  in  the  light  of  this  dictum,  deter- 
mine to  carry  your  two  canes,  may  the  snows 
of  winter  descend  on  your  devoted  head,  for  thus 
"it  is  spoken"  by  shivering  Age  himself,  whose 
crow's  feet  clutch  at  your  sunken  eyelids  while 
he  reiterates  the  old-time  traditions  as  the  days 
and  weeks  and  years  go  by. 


OUR  BLESSINGS. 

A  commonplace  subject,  you  remark,  and  one 
about  which  much  cant  sentimentalism  has  been 
expressed.  Yes,  perhaps,  but  there  may  never- 
theless be  other  aspects  to  the  question.  Even 
the  most  everyday  problems  are  interesting  when 
studied  from  a  rational  point  of  view,  and  I  wish 
particularly  to  discuss  this  one  because  of  the 
attitude  taken  by  mankind  generally  as  to  the 
values  in  life  balanced  against  the  disturbances. 
Men  complain  from  sunrise  till  sunset,  growl, 
kick,  rebel  and  condemn;  but  seldom  do  we  find 
a  person  glorifying  things  from  dawn  to  dusk. 
The  modern  pessimist  gets  up  at  daybreak  and 
commences  a  revolt  that  continues  till  he  goes  to 
bed  again.  The  weather,  the  country,  his  neigh- 
bor, his  health,  all  come  in  for  a  share  of  con- 
demnation. "  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty 
pass,"  his  "head  aches  like  the  deuce,"  his 
"finances  are  all  going  to  smash,"  "the  world 
hasn't  a  grain  of  horse  sense  and  never  will  have," 
"the  devil's  to  pay  when  women  mix  up  in  things 
that  don't  concern  them,"  "life  isn't  worth  living, 
anyhow,"  and  "if  there's  a  hereafter"  he  wants 
no  stock  in  it;  and  so  on  and  so  on,  week  in  and 
week  out. 


198  STRAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

Now  imagine  an  optimist  facing  the  east  at 
sunrise,  thrilling  with  delight.  "Lucky  dog!"  he 
exclaims,  "what  rapture  to  be  simply  alive!  How 
fortunate  that  I  can  see  such  glory  as  the  sun 
brings.  I  pity  any  one  who  lacks  power  to  appre- 
ciate this  wonder."  Before  meals  he  bows  his 
head.  "How  good  it  is  to  just  eat  and  drink; 
health  is  of  value  inestimable;  to  breathe  is  a 
pleasure,  and  to  move,  think  and  act,  is  something 
beyond  compare."  Even  hard  knocks  serve  as 
a  vital  stimulus  to  his  cheerful  spirit.  "Fine  for 
me,"  he  says;  "sun  looks  the  brighter  because  of 
the  shadows;"  "all  things  work  together  for 
good;"  "might  as  well  be  dead  as  not  happy;" 
"O  but  this  living  is  something  worth  while!" 

The  optimist  like  the  pessimist  may  exaggerate 
conditions,  but  the  ordinary  individual  as  a  rule 
inclines  more  to  fault-finding  than  complaisance, 
utterly  ignoring  the  good  things  provided  for 
him,  or  if  not  ignoring,  accepting  them  as  his 
just  due. 

Now  suppose  a  man  started  from  a  new  base 
regarding  his  estimate  of  life,  and  for  every  evil 
flying  over  his  head  looked  for  a  good  to  foil 
it,— a  blackbird  and  whitebird  skimming  the 
blue  side  by  side.  If  the  morning  is  "cold 
enough  to  freeze  me,"  the  fire  in  the  grate  is 
"hot  enough  to  keep  me  warm."  If  I  am  nearly 
starved,  I  find  my  food  delicious.  Disgusted 
with  being  sick,  I  am  glad  that  there  are  doctors. 
Having  lost  my  money,  the  work  which  I 
previously  hated  looms  up  as  a  blessing.  Driven 
into  the  house  by  the  storm  outside,  I  appreciate 


OUR  BLESSINGS  199 

fully  the  comforts  of  home.  Driven  out  by  ener- 
vating luxury,  I  enjoy  again  the  tough,  hard, 
spacious  world.  And  if  this  be  true,  why  can 
I  not  sometimes  say  so?  Am  I  ashamed  to  be 
thankful?  Is  it  disgraceful  to  acknowledge  that 
I  appreciate  and  often  really  enjoy  the  things  of 
life?  In  Germany  you  are  told  to  rap  on  wood 
if  you  have  dared  to  boast  that  matters  are  pros- 
pering, lest  the  demon  of  ill  luck,  "  watching 
out"  and  biding  its  time,  change  your  course  of 
events  for  the  worse.  I  believe  there  is  a  little 
imp  of  good  luck  also,  who  is  only  too  glad  to 
polish  your  reflecting  lamp  that  you  may  see 
the  glamour  in  life  in  lieu  of  the  gloom.  As  be- 
fore said  in  this  book,  the  sun  is  the  real  fact; 
shadows  are  but  effigies  made  by  things  that 
strive  to  put  out  the  light  of  day.  And  if  the 
sun  is  the  real,  then  the  cheerful  person  is  cer- 
tainly one  of  sound  sense,  while  the  growler  is 
out  of  tune  with  cosmic  harmonic®.  The  man 
who  recognizes  his  blessings  has  discovered  the 
very  source  and  maintainor  of  life,  while  he  who 
realizes  his  miseries  only,  is  hypnotized  by  a  fic- 
kle medium  that  has  neither  stability  nor  leading 
place  in  the  scheme  of  things.  I  am  not  exalting 
the  grinning  optimist  who  sees  no  shade  what- 
ever, for  the  shadow  is  inevitable  and  rightful, 
''worth  what  it  is  worth,"  and  cannot  be  ignored. 
All  that  I  contend  for  is  a  proper  placing  of 
values.  Gold  is  gold,  and  tin  is  tin.  The  opti- 
mist who  exalts  tin  to  the  rank  of  gold,  and  the 
pessimist  who  degrades  gold  to  the  class  of  base 
metal,  are  not  quite  level-headed  nor  excusable. 


200  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

The  person  today  who  is  looked  upon  as  man- 
ly and  square  is  the  stoic  of  modern  stripe,  who 
seems  to  be  enduring  untold  miseries  without 
uttering  a  word  of  complaint.  My  dear  man, 
your  whole  attitude  is  a  stubborn  protest.  You 
are  not  undergoing  one  whit  more  misery  than 
are  your  brothers,  and  yet  you  appear  like  a 
veritable  Atlas  carrying  the  big  round  world  on 
your  shoulders.  You  grit  your  teeth  and  bear— 
what?  No  more  than  your  child  bears  or  your 
wife  or  your  friend,  who  grumbles  one  moment 
and  thanks  the  Lord  the  next.  Your  silence  is 
a  challenge  to  the  Universe.  You  would  die 
rather  than  admit  that  you  ever  had  been  or 
ever  could  be  blessed.  Nothing  that  comes  to 
you  in  the  guise  of  good  is  worth  considering  in 
comparison  with  that  which  is  bad.  Your  lips 
make  a  straight  line  set  firmly.  Smile?  Not  you! 
Why  should  you?  As  a  stoic  you  despise  the 
grumbler  who  talks  and  growls.  You  are  a  man! 
you  will  utter  no  word  of  protest,  but  simply 
endure.  Ha!  ha!  I  verily  believe  that  the  per- 
son of  sharp  tongue  is  better  than  you,  and 
fairer.    Your  pride,  sir,  is  ridiculous. 

Now  the  right  thinking  individual  is  not  going 
to  cross  a  bridge  till  he  comes  to  it,  nor  find 
a  stream  till  he  gets  there.  The  sane  man  doesn't 
die  but  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  while  he  lives 
he  enjoys  aU  he  can.  He  is  not  a  pretender.  If 
things  are  bad  he  says  so,  but  finds  the  good  in 
them  if  possible.  If  things  are  good  he  admits  the 
fact  and  shouts  Hurrah  and  Glory  Hallelujah, 
not  a  bit  ashamed  of  his  exuberance.     It  is  no 


OUR  BLESSINGS  201 

disgrace  to  revel  in  sunlight,  for  the  source  of 
the  rays  is  reliable  and  life-giving.  The  sane 
person  is  a  frank,  disillusioned  individual,  who 
can  dance  around  the  maypole  on  a  bright  spring 
morning  and  attend  a  funeral,  if  he  must,  in  the 
afternoon. 

There  is  a  false  idea  of  manliness  afloat  that 
permits  the  cultivation  of  two  types  of  humanity, 
either  of  which  is  a  disgrace  to  the  standard 
conceived.  One  is  the  disgruntled  grumbler, 
who  will  not  acknowledge  his  blessings  though 
they  meet  him  half  way,  and  the  other  is  the 
haughty  stoic,  who  is  enduring  things  and  en- 
during them  still  more,  going  on  and  on  weighted 
with  woe,  as  though  he  were  the  only  sufferer 
on  the  planet  and  the  human  herd  were  created 
for  the  purpose  of  witnessing  his  heroism  and 
pain.  He  does  not  know,  perhaps,  that  no  camel 
can  carry  ''the  last  straw,"  and  no  man  more 
than  he  is  able.  "Our  shoulders  are  fitted  to 
our  burdens,"  if  not,  the  load  will  fall  off.  The 
baby  with  his  childish  trouble  is  proportionately 
as  much  afflicted,  as  is  his  suffering  parent  with 
his  larger  capacity  for  endurance.  The  ant,  com- 
paratively speaking,  is  as  great  a  drudge  as  a 
working  elephant.  The  power  to  endure  and  the 
thing  we  have  to  bear  belong  to  each  other  or 
they  will  surely  be  divorced.  The  statesman  who 
bends  before  heavy  responsibilities  is  no  more 
overweighted  than  is  his  affectionate  wife  who 
carries  him  on  her  heart.  It  is  all  a  question  of 
capacities  and  equalization.  So  why  should  one 
complain  more  than  another,  at  least  about  that 


202  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

which  has  com©  to  him  legitimately  through  his 
own  acts.  Of  course  there  are  times  when  an 
individual  has  misfortunes  "piled  on"  him, 
while  another  seems  to  go  "scot-free."  In  the 
"long  run,"  however— and  the  "long  run"  may- 
be very  long— equilibrium  is  struck,  and  human 
beings,  by  the  intrinsic  nature  of  their  acts  in 
life,  get  a  "just  deal"  and  a  fair  surplus  of 
blessings. 

In  judging,  pitying  and  congratulating  each 
other,  we  fail  to  see  "round  the  corner"  and 
through  the  mistakes  engendered  by  our  short- 
sighted eyes,  reach  false  estimates  and  wrong 
conclusions.  With  the  glance  spying  for  evil  in- 
stead of  good,  the  20th  Century  is  likely  to  be- 
come pessimistic  and  a  menace  to  itself.  Our 
youngsters  strutting  the  streets  decrying  life 
and  stoutly  proclaiming  that  they  never  asked 
to  be  born,  our  older  folk  wondering  if  "any- 
thing is  really  worth  while  don't  you  know,"  our 
superb  appropriation  of  the  good  things  of  earth, 
without  earning  them  or  showing  the  slightest 
recognition  of  their  values,  all  go  to  show  that 
individualism  is  becoming  precociously  conceited 
and  needs  humbling  by  the  reactions  bound  to 
follow  such  absurd  assertiveness. 


THE    PAST. 

"Bury  the  past!"  Why?  Perhaps  if  it  were 
dead  this  advice  would  be  sensible,  but  as  that 
which  is  seemingly  lost  is  in  reality  with  us, 
assertive  and  often  obtrusive,  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  annihilate  it  by  an  attempted  burial. 
If  we  could  shut  our  door  on  the  past  we  should 
have  to  begin  life  all  over  again  and  learn  our 
A-B-C's.  A  blank  behind  us  would  mean  a  blank 
present,— our  minds  as  vacant  as  an  unfurnished 
house.  The  past  follows  us  like  a  fawning  dog; 
and  whines  for  recognition  continuously.  It  is 
not  only  built  into  us  bodily,  but  helps  to  stock 
our  inner  sanctuary  with  objectivities,  which  play 
over  and  over  the  drama,— farces  and  tragedies 
enacted  before  in  the  outside  world. 

To  be  sure,  we  forget  temporarily,  but  for- 
getting is  not  the  destruction  of  our  past  any 
more  than  is  sleep.  Horrible  or  beautiful,  evil 
or  good,  the  past  is  incorporated  into  our  being 
and  cannot  be  lastingly  escaped.  So  then,  in- 
stead of  trying  to  run  away  from  it,  why  not 
face  it  squarely  and  see  what  can  be  made  out 
of  it. 

It  is  said  that  the  past  is  fixed,  changeless,— 
but  is  this  really  so?     Surely  a  thing  done  is 


204  STEAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

done,  but  nevertheless  as  it  relates  to  our  present 
consciousness  we  may  find  in  it,  after  all  the 
element  of  change.  "But  how?"  you  ask.  Sup- 
pose a  man  committed  a  murder  a  few  years 
ago,  under  sudden  impulse  unaccountable  to  him- 
self. There  being  extenuating  circumstances, 
the  case  is  one  of  manslaughter,  and  he  gets  off 
with  a  light  sentence.  But  within,  his  soul  is 
racked  with  horror.  The  act  is  done,  nothing 
can  change  that,  and  he  stands  out  before  his 
own  interior  eyes  as  a  hopelessly  guilty  being 
without  a  shade  of  excuse.  Now  as  far  as  the 
killing  goes,  no  change  in  the  past  takes  place; 
the  victim  is  dead.  But  as  far  as  he  himself  is 
concerned,  a  vast  difference  in  the  past  looms 
up,  making  his  whole  attitude  at  the  time  of  the 
deed  appear  utterly  changed.  He  has  learned 
from  his  mother  that  during  her  pregnancy 
before  he  was  born  she  suffered  from  homicidal 
mania,  due  to  causes  not  her  fault  apparently, 
which  made  it  almost  impossible  to  resist  the 
committing  of  such  acts  as  her  son  later  carried 
out.  His  whole  past  under  the  light  of  this 
revelation  appears  in  new  aspect.  As  far  as  he 
is  concerned  it  is  changed.  In  reality,  of  course, 
all  these  facts  were  intact,  under  cover,  but  as 
a  past  is  no  past  unless  recognized  in  conscious- 
ness, to  him  it  was  changed.  Not  that  only;  pos- 
sibly some  other  revelation  will  serve  to  alter 
it  still  more,  that  is,  put  his  deed  in  a  still 
different  light. 

Two  lovers  break  troth  and  marry  outsiders, 
each  blaming  and  hating  the  other  for  the  spoiled 


THE  PAST  205 

years  which  seem  to  be  a  black  cloud  over  their 
lives.  The  past  to  them  is  fixed,  a  grim  per- 
spective, which  they  believe  can  never  be 
changed,  when  a  third  party  or  hidden  enemy 
reveals  the  fact  that  certain  letters,  putting  new 
light  on  the  question  of  their  love  affair  and 
completely  exonerating  the  betrothed  couple,  had 
been  intercepted  and  destroyed  by  him.  Instant- 
ly the  black  past  glows  with  sunshine.  The  fact 
that  they  separated  stands,  but  the  other  con- 
cealed fact  that  caused  the  break  restores  their 
former  good  will  and  trust.  Nothing  new  really 
happened  except  in  the  consciousness  of  the  par- 
ties concerned;  something  out  of  sight  had  ap- 
peared, that  was  all.  But  as  far  as  they  were 
affected,  their  past  was  entirely  altered. 

In  finality  of  facts  the  past  is  fixed  and 
changeless;  in  reality  of  experience  it  is  a  gleam- 
ing chameleon.  We  did  things  ten  years  ago, 
that  as  they  receded  into  the  realm  of  "past- 
ness"  grew  different  and  different  with  the 
widening  of  our  conception  of  ourselves  and 
their  bearings  upon  us.  As  a  man  grows  away 
from  his  childhood  his  acts  take  on  quite  a 
reverse  color  from  that  of  years  before.  He  sees 
the  meaning  of  a  child  as  such,  which  he  did  not 
realize  when  he  first  grew  out  of  childish  con- 
ditions. In  fact  he  generalizes  on  childhood, 
and  his  former  griefs  now  amuse  him,  his  former 
punishments  make  him  smile,  his  past  that  once 
seemed  so  unfair  now  appears  reasonable  and 
what  he  deserved.  After  leaving  young  man- 
hood and  merging  into  prime,  the  past  of  youth 


206  STKAIGHT  GOODS  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

changes.  His  insane  passions  seem  inexcusable  to 
him,  his  rampant  egotism  disgusting,  he  wonders 
how  people  tolerated  him.  When  he  reaches  age, 
these  same  young  years  will  change  yet  more,  his 
mental  eyes  as  he  looks  back  see  farther  and 
better.  His  youth  appears  heroic,  sad,  charming; 
he  admires  what  he  once  detested;  he  gets  a 
larger  grasp  on  the  young  fellow  of  himself,  and 
realizes  his  charm. 

To  sum  up  then,  our  past  is  fixed  and  our  past 
is  changeable— an  arrant  contradiction  apparent- 
ly. From  the  potentiality  of  things  in  being, 
the  past  is  unalterable  as  far  as  the  fact  and  act 
go;  as  fact  and  act  simply,  no  change  is  possible; 
"it  is  spoken;"  "it  is  done."  But  from  the 
point  of  the  human  understanding  of  such  act 
and  fact,  the  comprehension  of  their  relation  to 
each  other  and  the  environment  under  which 
they  were  worked  out,  they  are  ever  changing 
as  the  intellect  of  man  expands  to  a  larger  and 
clearer  grasp  on  the  subject.  "If  I  had  known 
you  as  I  do  now,  I  should  have  seen  your  past 
in  quite  a  different  light,"  one  friend  says  to 
another.  Now  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  a  longer 
backward  perspective,  that  we  live  life  upon  life 
on  earth.  By  the  law  of  evolution  or  reincar- 
nation our  deeds  of  the  years  behind  in  this 
present  existence  would  take  on  quite  a  new  as- 
pect if  the  light  of  "beforehand"  gleamed  over 
them.  The  causes  for  the  effects  born  in  this 
stage  of  our  existence  would  intrude  their 
shadowy  forms  upon  us,  re-relating  the  acts  of 
our  nearby  past  in  quite  a  new  manner.     Some 


THE  PAST  207 

ghost  of  the  Orient,  or  th©  far  North  would  polish 
or  dull  the  stones  in  the  chain  of  events  just 
gone,  bringing  out  jewels  or  pebbles  in  an  unex- 
pected way. 

I  do  not  believe  in  trying  to  shut  out  the  past. 
In  the  first  place  it  cannot  be  done,  in  the  sec- 
ond place  it  is  not  fair.  The  coward  ignores  his 
unhappy  years  and  tries  to  look  upon  them  as 
" escaped,"  but  the  brave  man  faces  about 
periodically  and  glances  scrutinizingly  behind 
him,  and  sometimes,  much  to  his  satisfaction, 
his  broadening  comprehension  reveals  himself  to 
himself  as  never  before,  and  by  the  revelation 
gives  him  a  better  insight  into  the  future.  No 
man  can  be  a  prophet  who  fears  what  is  past.  He 
only  can  look  ahead  who  can  gaze  steadfastly 
back.  By  realizing  to  some  extent  what  he  was, 
he  may  alter  and  improve  what  he  is  and  there- 
fore what  he  is  yet  to  be. 


WHAT'S  THE  USE! 

I  have  finished  " Straight  Goods,"  and  you 
ask,  " What's  the  use?"  A  sensible  question, 
I  assure  you.  The  object  of  this  book  is  to  reveal 
philosophy  in  its  practical  aspect.  Failing  in 
that,  it  were  better  out  of  print.  It  attempts  to 
show  that  a  fundamental  law  is  at  the  base  of 
life,  and  if  we  realize  this  fact  and  flow  with  it, 
we  are  practical  philosophers. 

But  you  say,  "I  want  religion."  I  answer, 
yes,  philosophy  includes  the  religion,  that  is,  the 
one  and  only  aspect  namely,  faith  in  this  supreme 
law  and  reverence  and  adoration  for  the  Being 
expressed  by  it.  Eeligion  also  includes  philos- 
ophy. A  religion  that  is  not  philosophic,  that 
is  not  based  on  fact  and  experience,  is  not  worth 
considering. 

I  have  no  intention  to  name  this  law  here,  for 
it  has  been  reiterated  over  and  over  again  in 
the  pages  of  this  book.  If  the  work  means  any- 
thing to  you,  you  will  certainly  find  it;  if  not, 
shelve  the  book  and  forget  it.  I  am  aware  that 
a  certain  proportion  of  humanity  are  looking 
frantically  for  the  absurdly  occult,— that  which 
defies  reason  and  common  sense;  they  want  ex- 
citement, sensation,  thrills.    Like  men  who  drink 


WHAT'S  THE  USE?  209 

they  need  stronger  and  yet  stronger  doses  to 
assuage  their  growing  appetites.  We  warn  all 
such  to  let  this  book  severely  alone,  for  it  steers 
clear  of  the  unusual  and  strives  instead  to  bolster 
and  perpetuate  the  homely  commonplace. 


Date  Due 

REHJ  JU 

1    14   1975 

AUG  5 

'  1976 

if  cm  AUG 

2  3  1976 

'ntl/U  MV 

i  6  I9f 

IHTHMJB 

SABY  LOIRS 

SEP  < 

9  1993 

i  j     i    S    I 

IH'» 

JUH^  l 

PRINTED    1* 

u.s.a.             CAT 

.    NO.    24    161 

EH? 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  664  466    o 


